Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009?
by X-Scree Scree-X
Summary: After being attacked and killed, or so he thinks, Spot Conlon wakes up in the twenty first century. When he's found by two girls, what do they drag him into and will he ever see his newsies again? Originally SPOT CONLON: 1882 TO 2009?
1. Pick Pocket

**Well here it is guys, the rewritten story, originally Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009?**

**Just for your info, if you go to chapter two right after I get this chapter up, it's going to be completely different. **

**It'll be crappy and in third person.**

**So yeah!**

**Enjoy, my good readers!!!**

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**One Hundred and Ten Years Apart**

**(Originally Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009?)**

**Chapter One;; Pick Pocket**

**Monday, June 29th, 1899**

I guess you could say I had everything I could ever want: a roof over my head, the whole of Brooklyn at my finger tips, somewhat good food... I was sixteen year old Spot Conlon, and leader of the Brooklyn newsies. I'd been leader for a while now; since I was twelve actually. There wasn't much to say on the matter of my "ruling", other than everybody knew Brooklyn, and Brooklyn knew everybody. That was my nickname. You never talked about Brooklyn without talking about me. I took over for the old leader after he left. He and I had been great pals, and he had taught me everything I knew today, and even more. I ruled and everyone who didn't know it found out soon enough.

Take the Walking Mouth, for example. Didn't know who I was because he wasn't a newsie, and then the first thing he does once he meets up with Jacky-boy? Comes to see me.

Brooklyn was power. Brooklyn was strength. We knew how to fight dirty and sweet talk the ladies.

Brooklyn was my only family I really had. My mother had died shortly after I left to become a newsie at age eight, leaving my kid brother to me. I had to raise Charles, and he turned out all right. He acted a lot like myself, but I wasn't that surprised. I had a dad, but he walked out on my mother, brother and me right after Charles had been born, the prick. Guess I should have expected it. Damn, and I could even see myself ending up like him. Getting married, having a couple of kids... and then leaving the dame like she was dirt. Not that I wanted to... but I saw it in my near future.

"Common kid." I called over my shoulder, the stormy blue eyes, searching the crowd for the shrimp.

The young kid poked his head out from behind a guy he had gotten stuck behind before he pushed passed him and raced to my side, his light gray hat falling from his curly brown hair. He quickly picked it back up, stuffing it back on his head and racing to my side, his brown eyes wide as he stared up at me.

"Would ya hurry it up, kid? Or do ya want me ta leave ya behind foah da bulls ta pick up?" I growled to him, pulling him out of the way of some racing pedestrians.

"Wheah's ya takin' me, mistah?" The short kid asked, looking up at me with nervous eyes. Good. He wasn't some goofy kid who trusted every street rat who seemed nice.

"Wheah's I takin' ya? I'se is savin' yoah ass, so shut ya trap an' I'wl tewl ya evryting in a sec." I told him, putting a rough hand on his back and pushing him in front of myself so I could keep a better eye on him. Man this kid was shrimp. But who am I to judge? I was short for my age... still am, but that doesn't matter.

I wore usually clothing for a newsboy; dark brown pants, red suspenders, light button up with odd colors... But at my side was my cane, my neck a key necklace, and in my pocket rested my sling shot.

All three things had a value to me: first the cane. My father, Liam Keegan Conlon, had given it to me when I was just a kid, telling me that it would always come in handy, but since he left mom and us behind, I had planned on beating him to death with it. Second was my necklace. Mom had given it to me when I started to work as a newsie, and she told me that I was always welcome. And my sling shot? It was lucky as hell. I hit usually nine out of ten, if not the full ten. Chase, the leader before my had helped me make it when I joined, and I never let it leave my side.

But getting the kid away from the bulls, I had lost my last hat. Great. The kid would get a good soaking for being so foolish as to get caught.I'd seen him pocketing a gent's wallet, and wondered if he belonged to a borough, because he was pretty good, when the cop spotted him. And being the kind hearted person I was, I helped him get away. He'd be put to good use when taught well.

When I started to see the salty river me and my boys lived by, I told the kid what I was going to do. He asked, after all, so I'd give him an answer.

"Listen ta me kid. I saws youse tryin' ta steal dat gent's wallet, an' ya woulda gotten aways wit it if dat bull hadn't been 'round. Now I sees a good potential in youse kid, and dat's sayin' a lot fr'm me; so how'd ya like ta join me an' me newsies?" I asked him, giving him one of my infamous smirks with a quirk or my eyebrow.

"Join youse and yoah newsies?" The kid asked, stopped momentarily by what I had asked him, "But dat must mean yoah Spot Conlon!"

Good, he knew about me. That would make things go lots faster. But then again, who in New York hadn't heard of me?

"In me own flesh n' blood, but gets a move on; dat bull might still bes hangin' about." I said, pushing the small boy in front of me onto the beginning of the dock. No, not just a dock, _my _dock. Don't believe me? Check any one of the wooden boards on this one dock and you'll find the word 'BROOKLYN' carved into each and every one of them. No it wasn't my name, but- Nope, wrong again. Brooklyn _was_ my name. You couldn't speak about Brooklyn without thinking about me. That's just the way it was.

"Ah coise mistah Conlon!" The kid said, a wide grin painted across his young face; he couldn't have been any older then eight, but he was sure classy.

"Dat's Spot ta youse, kid. Now do ya have a name?" I asked him, walking down the wooden planks that made my dock, my boots tapping against the old weathered boards. The docks were empty about now: too dark to go swimming and hang out, but too light for it to really be called night time. All my boys were already at the lodging house we all called home, either playing poker or drinking before bed.

"I'se do't haff a name, Spot. I'se nevah hads anyboidys ta cawl me a name." The eight year old sighed, turning her head from me to look down into the murky waters below us.

Poor kid, being left on the street as such a young age without a mother or father to teach him how to live. At least I had a mother... but no getting soft, Spot. He'll live.

"Then wese'll call ya Pick Pocket, foah yoah amazin' woik back dere." I told him, coming up with the name right on the spot. I was good at that.

"Ah coise mistah! I mean… Ah coise Spot!" Pick Pocket said, his eyes widened in disbelief. He just got named by a newsie lord. I'd be impressed if I named myself as well.

"Gets a move on kid. Get in da howse an' find a bunk ta sleep in. An' if dere ain't any open, shaeh a bed wit da kid dey cawls Mouse. He's small an' youse is bound ta fit on a bed wit him." I told him, pushing him back towards the beginning of the dock, making him stumble a few steps before he regained his footing.

Pick Pocket raced off inside to meet the crew while I stayed out to watch the water beneath me.

I walked lightly over to one of the edges of the dock, watching the orange sun in the blueish green water that swam beneath me. It had become a tradition of mine to come to the water and watch the sun set when I was troubled, and right now, I was troubled. I was thinking about _her _again, and I shouldn't be. She haunted my dreams every night, but she was long gone; never to be seen again. Then another thought rushed over my as my feet dangled from the edge of my dock, my cold eyes staring down at my reflection.

"I'se is da most hated poisen in Brooklyn…" I whispered to myself, glaring down at my own glare. And it was true. Sure I'd been nice with the kid, Pick Pocket, but I soaked anyone who decided they didn't want to listen to me. I banged any girl I wanted to and got my way, without any hassle. because people hated me. _Feared _me.

I gritted my teeth before hissing, "But wut do it mattah? I do't caeh if dey hate me, I caeh is dey feah me..." I lied to myself, and sometimes it worked, but now... it seemed useless.

"Wut wus dat, boss?" A voice asked from behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was, so I didn't. I just continued to glare down at myself.

They boy, uhm... young man that stood behind me had medium longish golden hair and crystal blue eyes. Spot and than man behind him had been friends forever; ever since eight year old Spot found him shivering on the bank of the river that they now stood over. That's how he hadn't gotten his name; Shivah.

"Wut do youse want, Shivah?" I asked sourly, watching the setting sun longingly. The sun didn't have to do anything but rise and set. What an easy life that'd be.

"I'se jus' wanted ta tewl ya sumtin, Spot." Shivah said softly, coming to do sit as my side on the edge of the dock.

"Oh? An' wut may dat be?" I didn't have to ask; I knew what was coming, but I might as well let him speak.

"I jus' wanna say dat I'se is sorry, and dat I'wl miss ya guys; youse been my family foah 'bout nine yeahs now, and I'se owe ya so much... I'se would stay, I mean I still gots a few good yeahs in me till I gotta woik at a fac'try, but... Alice needs me, Spot, an' her pa won't lemme mary her 'til I gets a job. A real one. Youse can undahstand dat, right? Youse can undahstand why I'se is doin' dis?" Shivah asked earnestly, almost begging me.

True, I did know what it meant to sacrifice for the ones you loved; the best act of it had taken place in front of me only a few months ago. It was so fresh in my heart, it hurt. It hurt that someone would actually want to die for me... and she did. She died for me _and _because of me, and now that she was gone... I had no where to turn. I felt so empty inside. It started with a little game I always played. Like I said, I could get whatever girl I wanted. But not her; no, never Miss Lonely. She didn't feel the need to have love in the form of a boy friend. She knew the pain of loosing people she loved, and didn't want it to happen again. So, after three failed attempts by Jack, Race and Kid Blink, I went in for the kill. Of course, she didn't take my crap, and I didn't expect her to, but after saving her from some goons on the streets, we started to get to know each other. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, she loved me, and I loved her. I don't think I've ever loved someone as much as I loved her. Sure, there was that love for the body when you had a one night stand, and maybe a love for the way someone acted, but the love for the whole person couldn't compare to either. And she had been so sure about everything; it was like she could see the future. "You'll be the death of me, Spot Conlon." She had told me once... and it ended up being true. Some leader from another borough had something against me, and to get to he, he got her. Shot her to death as well. Of course, he didn't know they were related.

Shivah didn't know why I was so tough on him. Of course he knew the story of Lonely... but, he was so convinced that Alice would always be there. Boy was he in for a rude awakening.

"No, Shivah; I can't undahstand youse. Youse of all people should know dat!" I answered him, turning my head to look him straight in the eyes.

"But Spot... youse gotta." Shivah argued, running his hand through his hair.

"No, Shivah, _youse _gotta undahstand!" I snarled, my eyes turning icy cold, "Yoah leavin' yoah only family, yoah _bruddahs _foah some skinny liddle _goil_!"

Shivah opened his mouth as if to argue back, but closed it with a snap, his jaw hardening in defiance.

"Fine. If dats wut youse want, den fine." Shivah said without one ounce of emotion in his voice, "Youse mean nuttin' to me; youse owr yoah newsies. An' I ain't Shivah, no moah; youse, Spot, can cawl me mistah William."

And with that, Mr. Shane William stood up and left his family behind to make his own living.

I watched him go with one of my glares before I, too, stood up and made my way over to our warehouse quickly, slamming the door as I entered, and then marching up the stairs, each making a loud thud.

By the time I reached the door that lead to the room where my boys slept, they had all fallen silent, hearing me coming in. I opened the door, and all eyes went on me.

The room was simple; a rectangular wooden room with bunk beds lined up against the walls with clothing and apparel spread about the floor.

Walking slowly down the middle of the bunk beds, all eyes stared carefully, evenly at me. They wanted to know what was going to happen now.

Shivah had been my second in command, and that now meant tat position was up for grabs. Everyone wanted it.

"Shivah, owr, as he now cawls hisself, _mistah William_." I sneered, my eyes darting back and forth between the boys, and our one girl, "Has decided dat a goil, no 'fence Peppah, is moah impo'tant den us, his bruddahs, so he is no longah a membar ah da Brooklyn Newsies, ya heah?"

"Eye." They all called, none of them blinking.

"An' I'se'll pick a second in a couple a nights; I need time ta t'ink. G'night boys." I turned and left the room to go to my own, private one.

Everyone told me it was more honorable to sleep in the same room with my boys, but there just wasn't enough room.

After shutting the door behind myself, I sat down on my small bed, my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. No, I wouldn't cry. I would never cry. Crying meant defeat, and defeat just wasn't an option for me. I might have cried once, but never again. So without even bothering to change, I laid down on my bed and fell into an uncomfortable and light sleep.

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**Better?? I think it is. **

**In first person, anyway. It's the same info, with a little extra, then last time... so review!!**

**I love you all my awesometastical reviewers!!**

**Much love always**

**~Scree  
**


	2. Race and Golden

**Spot Conlon 1882 to... 2009? Chapter Two, Race and Golden**

**Spot's POV**

**Tuesday June 30****th****, 1899**

Spot had had a tough night; every little sound that could be heard out on the streets had awoken him from the light sleep he drifted into. So finally, after about the 12th time he'd woken up, he got up, put his clothes on a headed out to the docks.

It was still dark out, even though the sun would soon be rising, but Spot didn't mind. Night was cold, just like his heart. If he had one, that is. Even if it was in the middle of the summer the nights were cold. Everyone could feel it. Burglars roamed the streets at night, looking for poor children to beat and women to steal from. But who could fix that? It was New York and all kinds of trouble happened, no matter was anyone did about it. Except for what Jack Kelly did.

He had stopped Pulitzer from getting away with his price raise on the papes. No, it hadn't gone back down to the normal 2 for 1, but he'd given them a different option; they were aloud to sell back the papers they didn't sell instead of having to "eat them" as the boys put.

Jack Kelly was a brave guy… and he still was, as leader of the Manhattan Newsies, Jack had truly showed that if one had the courage, a small gang of kids could challenge the powerful.

But that day was long ago, and even though the Brooks and Hattans had remained close ally's, nothing interesting had happened lately to call for the King of Brooklyn and the King of Manhattan to meet any time recently.

News was slow and money was hard to obtain, even if they were aloud to sell their papes back. But that was life, and life trudged on as it always did.

Life. Now that was a topic to think on when there was nothing to do. Every person on the face of the planet was placed here for a reason, but what was it? And more importantly, what was his?

Spot was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard the song of shuffling feet leading themselves out side.

Spot looked down to the warehouse from the crate he sat upon, his thrown they called it, to see his newsies come out of the warehouse, all still half asleep on their feet.

Spot stood and jumped down onto the pier, looking over the newsies with a hard stare.

Everyone, on seeing Spot, straightened and tried to look as awake as they could. Even though Spot ruled over them with a cold fist, which he had for years now, they were quite used to it, and couldn't imagine life any other way.

"A'right, bois. Who's ready ta sell sum papes?" Conlon asked, a smirk spread across his face, and even lighting his eyes up.

All of the newsies gave a holler and ran off down the pier, ready for the bell to ring.

Spot smiled to himself; it made him… not happy but… there was no word to describe the way he felt when his boys were so anxious to sell papes under his rule.

A few boys slacked behind, waiting for Spot to catch up with them.

Spot sold alone, as most as good as him did, but getting breakfast alone didn't start his day well, and today, he had a good five willing to eat in his presence; one of them being the new kid, Pick Pocket, who had to be taught the ways of the newsies.

"Monin' bois; how'd youse all sleep?" Spot asked, walking up with his hand on his cane.

"I slept perfectly foine, Spot." One of the oldest boys said, half a smile across his angular face. He was one of the older guys, named Shark, or, as some of the boys liked to call him, Fangy. He had some sharp teeth, and used them very well to his advantage. He was taller then most of the boys and had pale brown hair that always hung in front of his green eyes.

"Shuh ya did, Sharkeh; snored right in ma eah, he did." His brother hissed with a glare at his older and taller brother.

"Oh buck off, Bricky." A curly red haired boy piped in, his green eyes narrowed, "S'not like youse sleep like an angel, with a that moanin'! 'Come back, baby! I wo't hurt cha!'"

Bricky glared at curly orange mop of a kid with his bright blue eyes, rubbing the back of his brown hair with his hand.

"S'not youse fight, Strawberry!"

The red head, Strawberry it seems, spit on the ground, his green eyes filled with hatred.

"Hey, now fellas', stop wit duh name callin'!" A small brown haired boy pipped in, his pale gray eyes searching their eyes for some kind of "give up" sign, although it would never happen.

"Neva happenin', Mousy." Spot told him, shaking his head at his newsies bickering, "Shark, Brick, Blaze and youse were ments to fight fur eternity."

Pick Pocket, on the other hand, walked slowly behind the others watching them carefully.

With a glance over his shoulder, Spot grabbed Picks arm and pulled him to the group as they walked down the street towards breakfast.

"Surely youse mets these heah guys already, right Pick Pocket?" Spot asked, looking down at the short kid.

He shook his head quickly, but muttered softly, "Only Mouse…"

"Only Mouse, eh? Well don'ts be shy, Picky. Dis is Shark and his budduh Brick. The red head is Blaze, althoughs everyboidy calls him Straeberry. Bois, dis heah is our new newsie; Pick Pocket.

They swapped their hellos before reaching the cheap place Spot got his food every morning. They all gulped their food down before getting their papes and heading off on their separate routes. Picky went with Mouse to teach him the way to pick a pocket the correct way; without getting caught.

Spot took his place on the corner overlooking his river, and the Brooklyn bridge and started selling the hundred papes he'd purchased from the pape guy, Smice. An all too nice guy who always gave him extra papes if he needed it. He was probably the only nice guy Spot would ever meet in Brooklyn. Brooklyn was different from the other places in New York. Everything was dirtier here, which made it dangerous for the newsies to live, but they got by, one day at a time.

Spot was probably about half way through selling his pile when he spotted the familiar face strutting over the bridge straight towards him.

"Well if it isn't Racetrack himselfs. What brings yah ta Brooklyn my pal?" Spot asked, spitting in his hand and holding it out to Race, an easy smirk across his face.

Race took it with that wide smile he was always wearing.

"Just askin' if youse and some o' your bois wanted ta come ovah to Hattan t'night for a game." Race said, releasing Spot's hand.

"I'd luv ta, but I been kinda busy, wut wit all duh bad head loines. I even gots a new kid ta train in da business uh pick pocketing." Spot said with a shrug, but then changed the topic, "Eh, why ain'ts you sellin' papes?"

Race shook his head, taking a cigar out of his black and faded yellow plaid vest, sticking it in his mouth and lighting it.

"Papes weren't ready dis mornin'. Da printin' press apparently wasn't woikin', and might not even work for dis aftanoons adition." Race said, blowing smoke from his mouth.

"Really? Ain't dat too bad… well if ya help me sell my papes, I'll give ya fouty percent." Spot told his, handing him a mound of papes.

Race shook his head, chewing on his cigar.

"I gots a bettah idea, Spot. How bouts I help youse sell ya papes, and you come ovah t'night wit a coupa o' your bois? Whudduh ya say, pal? Jus a liddle bit o' pokuh?" Race said, taking some papes from Spot's pile.

Spot looked at him with his stormy eyes, not convinced.

"Come on, Spot. No goil can resist my boyish cham! Besiods, I gots uh couple'uh goils comin' ovah t'night, includin' me own Mariabella, duh most beautifoil goil in all uh New York." Race said, the grin across his face widening.

Spot rolled his eyes.

"Foine! Jus sell de papes!" He smirked, handing Race some papes.

"Youse won't be disappointed, Spot." Race said, sucking on his cigar.

"I alreadys am, so gets a move on!" Spot snarled playfully, sending Race racing off to some girls to sell.

Indeed, a couple of hours later, Spot was impressed; all his papes had been sold and his pocket was filled with money.

"See ya t'night, Spot!" Race called over her shoulder, heading back to the Brooklyn Bridge.

"See ya Race." Spot murmured with a wave of his hand before turning his back to the bridge and starting his way back home to figure out which of his newsies he'd be taking to play poker.

Not only had Race helped him sell his morning papers, he'd also sold most of his evening ones to, saying he didn't have anything better to do, so by the time he got back, he'd have to turn around and walk back to the bridge to reach Manhattan.

On reaching the docks and piers, Spot saw a bunch of his boys sitting out front, smoking.

"Who's up for a game at duh Hattans place, bois?" Spot asked once he'd reached them.

A good six guys stood up; they were always ready to beat a Manhattaners rear.

Those who stood up were the usual group for gambling; Steele, Muse, Thunder, Chance, Ace and Boxer.

Steele was a really tall and gangly guy with cold gray eyes and black hair who never spoke much. Muse was a tiny kid, although he was one of the oldest, and he told some of the worst jokes in the history of bad jokes. Thunder was this really plump guy with really long brown hair and blue eyes who was really loud, but a really amazing fighter when the time called for it. Chance was of medium height with short blonde hair and beady black eyes that always bet on the most ridiculous things, but always seemed to win. Ace was the only African American in the Brooklyn newsies, but was a tough guy who rarely ever lost to anything. And last was Boxer; he was a huge guy with giant muscles who could not five guys over with the lightest push. He always had his hair cur real short and had bright green eyes which were crazy looking all the time.

"Well den, gents, lets get goin' den. Hattan won't waits forevah." Spot said, turning back around and walking off towards the bridge, hands in his pockets and his six newsies trailing behind him.

"Oh good, ya finally showed up!" Race called from his seat at the table when Spot and the others walked in. Around the table also sat Jack, Mush, Boots, David and Blink.

Behind them, though, was a group of about 4 or 5 girls, all dressed up in dresses and giggling to each other about the boys. All of them were pretty, but one girl, a small Italian with long black locks a delicate little face, stood out when she sat by the other girls. She was most likely Race's girl, Mariabella.

All the Manhattan boys stood up to shake hands with the Brooklyns' before the all sat around the table.

Some of the girls came around the table to watch the boys play and flirt with them, although they almost all went to Jack, which was a shame since he already had Sarah as his girlfriend. Only two stayed with others; Race's Mariabella, who kept wrapping her arms around Race's neck and whispering in his ear, making him chuckle at whatever she'd said, and a blond with big blue eyes that always wondered to Spot.

Spot thought she was cute, but nothing other then that. Like I said, none of his relationships never got serious and he wasn't planning on having a serious relationship anytime soon.

"Who wants some whiskey?" Race asked, standing up and grabbing a bottle and some cups. He poured everyone a drink, including the girls, and they all drank, continuing their poker game.

The pretty blond who couldn't take her eyes off of Spot sauntered over, whiskey bottle in hand, and asked, "Wants som'more?" In a cute little way.

_So she'sa tryin' ta get me drunk, eh? It'll take a lot more den dat, sweethart._ Spot thought to himself, but he smirked to her and said, "Shoir thing, sweethart. Youse have a name?"

The girl giggled, pouring some more whiskey into his and her cup.

"The names Cornelia, but everyone calls me Golden." She said, downing the whisky.

Spot downed his, "And dey calls me Conlon, Spot Conlon."

"How bouts we take uh break befores I lose all me money?" Race suggested, giving Chance a glare; the kid had a heap of coins, and most of the money was Race's.

"Good idea, Racy." Mariabella giggled, giving him a little hug from behind before she sauntered off to talk with Mush.

Race gave a slight roll of the eyes to Spot, which Spot read as: _Ugh.. bad idea, Spot. She's always flirtin' wit every one uddah den me!_

Spot chuckled to himself before he stood up, stretched, and then fell back onto a couch not far away.

They'd been playing for… oh, about an hour and a half, and Spots back had become stiff as rocks.

The little girl who'd been watching him, Golden was her name, came over in her pale blue dress and sat down at his side, moving closer and closer every few second.

Spot rolled his eyes; she must be drunk.

Feeling unbearably kind today, Spot took his arm and put it around Golden's shoulders.

She let out a contented sigh, leaning her golden head on his shoulder.

Since the boys didn't seem like they were play again anytime soon, Spot closed his eyes, dozing off lightly.

When Spot awoke, it was dark out and no one was seated around the table anymore. Well, except for Race who sat with his face on the table, snoring away. Spot blinked his eyes once before noticing that he was laying on the couch, with none other then Golden draped across him. And what was more, his shirt was gone.

Spot sat up, pushing Golden to the floor.

"Hey! Wuts duh big idea?" Golden asked, a wake from the sudden movement.

"Where are my bois? And wheres my shoirt?" Spot asked, stretching his arms above his head.

"Well… the bois who cames wit you left for Brooklyn and didn't want ta wake you… and I has your shoit…" Golden said, holding up the faded blue shirt.

Spot grabbed the shirt away from her, starting to put it on. Girls just couldn't keep their hands off of him.

"Where ah youse goin?" Golden asked, standing up off the floor and whipping her dress off.

"I'se going home; to Brooklyn." Spot told her, buttoning up his shirt.

Golden grabbed his hands, looking up at his with her big blue eyes.

"But its late." She argued, "Just stay til monin'."

"Look, I go-" But Golden cut him off by shoving her lips to his, her eyes closed as if it were romantic.

But it wasn't. Not for him at least, and he stood there, blinking his eyes every once in a while, and even rolling her eyes would she wouldn't stop.

Golden pulled back, her eyes wide.

Spot blinked his cold eyes at her.

"Happy?" He asked as he stopped buttoning half way and looking at her.

"Please?" She asked innocently, her blue eyes wide and wet.

Spot rolled his eyes.

"Foine! Anyting else youse want?" Spot snarled.

"Well… you could keep you shirt off…" Golden said quietly tripping over her own feet.

Spot sighed, starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Foine. Night, Golden." He muttered, throwing his shirt on the ground and laying on the couch.

A second later, Golden was at his side, her face pressed to his chest, and all Spot did was sigh and drift back into his light sleep.

**This was just a chapter I put in to show how much Spot dislikes the girls... I added some characters, some that belong to Walt Disney Studios, but others that're mine... uhmm... It's going slow, but the next chapters MUCH better... this one was better then the last, wouldn'**

**X**

**X**


	3. The Kill

**Spot Conlon 1882 to... 2009? Chapter 3, The Kill**

**Spot's POV**

**Wednesday July 1****st****, 1899**

Morning came quickly for Conlon, and of course, he was up the earliest for more than one reason; one, to get away the thing sprawled across him. Two, so the Manhattan newsies didn't see him like this and tease him, and three, so he could get back to Brooklyn where his newsies probably wondering where he was.

So Spot carefully maneuvered himself and untangled Golden from him and set her carefully on the couch, hoping the movement wasn't going to wake her up; he didn't want her flinging herself across him, begging him to stay like last night.

Quickly, he grabbed his shirt, put it on, buttoned it up half way, put his suspenders over his shoulders, made sure he had his golden tipped cane and made his way to the door. Before making it, however, he heard a soft groan. He contemplated running, but instead turned to see Racetrack look groggily up at him from the table, a pool of drool where his face had previously been.

"Leavin' so soon?" Race asked, his words slightly slurred. His eye lids drooped and he looked like he was having a hangover.

He was.

"Sorry Race, but I gots papes ta sell." Spot said with a smirk before turning the knob and walking out into the fresh air. The cool air felt amazing against his sweaty skin, having been blanketed by Golden all night long.

Spot easily found his way to the Brooklyn bridge, having lived in Manhattan a couple of times during the newsies strike. It took a while to cross, seeing how big it was, but once Conlon made it across, he knew his newsies would be up. But if they weren't, soaking would have to be issued.

Although his newsies knew that their leader was gone didn't mean that they wouldn't follow his orders every morning. They knew he had people watching them always.... and they had grown used to it and not always felt like their leader was a maniac for sending spys.

Once Spot opened the door to the abandoned warehouse where the newsies slept, he smirked. Almost every bunk was deserted. Almost.

Pick Pocket sat on his bunk, staring at the wooden floor boards bellow.

"Eh Pick Pocket; what'cha still doin' heah?" Spot asked strolling into the warehouse.

Pick Pockets' head flew up and he almost prepared himself for a soaking, but luckily, Spot didn't feel like it this morning.

"I was waitin' for youse, Spot. Mouse told me ta wait for youse so youse could teach me hows to be a newsie." Pick Pocket said, standing in front of his leader, leaning his head back to look in Spots stormy gray eyes.

Spot nodded, half a smile across his face.

"Sounds good kid. Youse ready ta go now?"

But before Pick Pocket could answer, Spot was already heading for the door, not really caring if Pick Pocket was ready or not.

Today he chose his attitude very carefully; get the day over with.

Last night had been late and the couch wasn't as comfortable as a bed. His back was sore and he just wanted to sleep... But he had money to make and someone to teach.

After grabbing a bite and buying the papes, Spot and Picky went to Spots usual corner near the bridge.

Spot went through his lessons, telling the kid what to do and exactly how to do it, but today wasn't such a good day to be teaching the kid how to sell papes; barely anyone was about. It was slightly chilly, but that wasn't any reason to stay inside. It actually baffled Spot, but he decided moving around would probably pay off more then just standing in one area. So they walked off, Spot teaching Pick Pocket all kinds of different techniques he'd either come up with over the years, or learned from other newsies from the past.

"K, kid. Shows me what'cha got." Spot said, finally shoving a pape to Pick Pocket and pushing him towards a pretty lady who was strolling past them.

"B...Buy a pape?" Pick Pocket said quietly and nervously.

The lady only gave him a sneer before walking off, her gown flowing behind her.

"Na, kid! Youse got to be loud! Try dat guy." Spot said, pointing at a gentleman walking buy.

"Buy a pape, sir!?" Pick Pocket asked, racing up to the guy, hand and paper in the air.

But before Picky could reach the man, he stepped in a puddle. At least it was a puddle before the cold air had frozen it.

Picky slipped backwards, landing on his back and accidentally kicking the guy in the groin.

The man let out a groan of pain, glaring at Pick while falling to his knees.

Picks eyes widened but Spot grabbed him, yanked him up and pulled him off before the guy called the copper.

"Wut was dat for, kid!? You coulda got youseself arrested!" Spot snarled, dragging the kid behind him.

"It wasn't _my_ fault! I slipped on ice!" Pick Pocket retorted, throwing Spot a glare.

Spot stopped and faced the kid, his gray eyes filled with electricity.

"Don'ts you _eva_ talk back ta me like dat again, ya hear?" Spot said fiercely, his voice dripping with venom.

"But it wasn't my-" But Pick Pocket was cut off when Spot slapped him across his cheek, grinding his teeth.

The kid looked terrified that it would become worse before his cheek could even become red.

"Come on, Pick. Lets head back." Spot hissed, turning around and heading for the docks.

"I'm really sorry, Spot... I..." Pick didn't finished his sentence, but instead rubbed his cheek, trying to get some feeling into it.

"Hey you!" Some one yelled from behind Spot and Pick. Both boys whipped around to see an all too familiar face. It was the guy that Pick Pocket was trying to steal from the other day when Spot had found him. But he wasn't alone; a few other rich looking gentlemen stood behind him, along with a good twenty cops. Not good.

Spot grabbed Picks arm just above the elbow and took off before Pick even knew what was happening. Spot had had some other newsies get caught pick pocketing, but never in his years of being a newsie had this happen. Sure maybe a cop or two would chase after them, but they would have soon gave up. This was different; this was deep.

Spot raced around the corner, calling, "NEWSIES!"

Spot didn't like calling for help, but no matter how fast he ran or all the hiding places he knew of, he'd need the help of his newsies this time.

In a flash he was surrounded by some of his newsies who helped him drag Pick along. The newsies around him consisted of Ash, Flinchy, Flint, History, Indy, Scout, Thunder, Storm, Hawk, and the Brooklyn newsies only girl, Pepper. Pepper grabbed Pick from Spot, which was a relief to him since it was hard enough running, let alone dragging a boy behind you.

"Wut should we do, boss?" Pepper asked, clutching the kid to her back.

"Scout." Spot yelled, racing through the allies to try an loose them, "You run and get de Hattans. Tell dem we're in a mishap and needs some backup."

The young kid ran off before Spot addressed the rest.

"We're going to da piers, got it? We can loose dem dere. We needs ta slipt up, so meet me theah." Spot commanded, soon running out of breath.

All his newsies ran in different directions, only Ash running off with his sister to help with with Pick.

Who knew this could ever happen, but Conlon was worried. He was experienced with running from the cops, but this seemed to be more than just running. He could feel something in the pit of his stomach, something that hadn't been there until he started running. It was the adrenalin, he'd experienced that before now and knew it was a completely different feeling. Something amazing and life changing was about to happen and he didn't even know why. He would have liked to know, though. He would have liked to be prepared for what he knew was coming, although he couldn't have figured anything in the safety of his Brooklyn piers would happen like this. But it would... and he was scared.

In a matter of minutes, Spot had made it to the pier, a couple of his newsies appearing behind him. The rest were waiting, including the ones that hadn't been running with him, like Blaze, Mouse, Steele, Shark, Brick, Boxer, Ace, Chance, Muse, Stone, Timber and Dale.

Spot stopped in front of his newsies, leaning over to try and catch his breath.

"Did we loose 'em?" The young Mouse asked, looking to his leader for confidence.

Spot didn't have to answer; the sound of hundreds of foot steps behind them on the pier answered for them.

A whole crowd of cops a rich gents were walking towards them, but the thing that surprised the newsies the most was that the gents weren't those old fat men who loved to count their money all day, but they were fit, and one, the one Pick was trying to steal from, had a pocket knife shining in his hands.

Spot stared at him, his cold eyes glaring and his chin high.

The cops and gents stopped a few feet away, their eyes going over the ragged "children" as they would probably call them.

"What do you want?" Spot asked coldly.

"We're tired of you children" See? What did I tell you? "Stealing from us! We're finally ending it! I suppose you're their leader?" The gent with the knife asked, pointing it at Spot. The guy didn't sound like he was from New York; most western. Probably Californian.

"Yeahs, so what if I am?" Spot snarled, his right hand going for the gold tipped cane in his belt loop.

"You've been causing all this trouble! Three days ago you told that child to come steal my wallet!" He accused, his knife pointing straight at Spots throat.

"I tolds a child ta come steal from ya? Na, I didn't know da kid at duh time, but he jus joined." Spot murmured, his eyes as cold as ice.

"You liar!" The man lunged forward, but Spot was reading and the man missed, stabbing at the air.

"Well what are you waiting for!? Get them! But leave their leader to me!" The man hissed to the other men and cops behind him who rushed forward to seize his newsies. But Spot knew he wouldn't have to worry; they'd show them they weren't just "children", but that they could fight back. Hard.

And they did. Boxer took a swat at one of the cops face and hit him in the cheek, sending him back, falling into the cold ocean water. The smaller kids, Mouse, Muse and Pick Pocket to be exact, leaped at one guy, bowling him over. Pick Pocket sat on his legs, Mouse on his chest while Muse gave the guys face what for with his fists.

Spot was so involved in watching his newsies fight like men, even Pepper, that he almost forgot about the guy with the knife.

The knife just barely missed his throat, but although Spot could be killed, he laughed. Even though he was his newsies were out numbered, he laughed.

"That all you got, ole man?" Spot asked, his gray/blue eyes dangerous. He pulled his cane out, holding it in a fighting stance.

The man chuckled, swiping the knife at Spot again, only to have it be stopped by Spot's cane.

"You really think and bunch of kids will make it out alive up against us?" He asked, a smirk across his pale white face.

Spot blocked his attacks, all the while stepping backward.

"Oh, this ain't all of us, mistah." Spot smiled, deflecting him once again.

The man gave him a confused look, his eyes slightly widened.

"MANHATTAN!!!!!!!!!"

A loud roar boomed farther up the pier, and the Brooklyn newsies cheered them on as Jack, Race, Mush, Crutchy, Blink, Boots and the rest of the Manhattan newsies charged.

Spot smiled, raising his arms high, cane in hand.

That was his mistake.

The man saw his opportunity and plunged his knife into Spots stomach.

All time froze.

All the newsies, Brooks and Hattans, stared when they heard Spot's gasp of pain. All eyes were widened in disbelief.

Spot Conlon made a mistake, but he wasn't dead yet.

His eyes became furious storms, and he ground his teeth so hard it hurt. Lowering his hands and putting his cane through his belt loop, he looked at the knife handle that stuck out of his stomach. Gingerly, he grabbed it between his hands and then slowly, and painfully, pulled it out. Once the knife was out of his stomach, he put his left hand over his wound and glared at the man that stood in front of him.

"You messed wit duh wrong newsies, pal." Spot snarled before plunging the knife, red with his blood, into the mans throat, his anger driving him to kill.

The man fell back, dead, and all the newsies cheered as the rest of the cops and men gave up and the sight of the dead man, although the cops tried making it through the crowed of newsies to try and arrest Spot, but they pushed him back from their leader towards the others who uslessly gave up.

Jack pushed his way through the crowd, ready to congratulate Conlon.

"Great fighin' Spot. Ya nevah die, do ya?" And almost reaching him, stuck his hand out and spit in it.

Spot went to do the same, but before he could he fell back, falling off the pier and into the cold water.

And that was the last Conlon felt before he black out.

**NO ITS NOT OVER SO DON'T STOP READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

_**It's just starting to get good, so DON'T! I'm going to get chapter four put up as soon as possible so you see that it's NOT over! I just needed a good three chapters in New York so you see how different it us for Spot when he wakes up.... REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**_

_**And I don't own Newsies, although all of Spots gang, 'cept him of course, I made and the guy who ends up dieing just now... not that I want him =P You can keep him ^^ HOPE YA LIKE IT SO FAR!!!**_

_**X**_

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	4. I Must Be Crazy

**Spot Conlon 1882 to…2009? Chapter Four, I Must be Crazy**

**Delia's POV**

**Thursday July 2nd, 2009**

The day started out like it always did; her mom yelling at her to get up off the bed and get ready to go to her grandma's.

"No…." The blond said, her eyes opening slightly before they snapped shut. Sometimes she liked to think she was a vampire; she hated the light, which was probably why she always stayed up until midnight, watching TV and doing her favorite thing: Eating.

But, of course, she had a slight problem with eating. No, she wasn't bulimic, she just forgot to eat. Not on purpose, of course. Of course not! When she told her friends on Myspace her mom said she might not be able to stay home by herself any more because she kept forgetting to feed herself, they thought she'd gone mental, as well as her parents. It was unusual for Delia Teichman to forget to eat. At school, she'd be able to eat a second plate of the lousy cafeteria food, and still be hungry enough to eat a third. That wasn't even the weird thing.

Over the years, growing up, she'd gained weight, but stayed normal for her age, and now at age 14, she fluctuated between 120.0 and 125.0 pounds; 120.0 when she forgot to eat and 125.0 when she could stand not to eat, and pigged out. But she wasn't huge and was fairly slim for her apatite.

But as I'd said before, the morning started with a plump little woman walking in to Delia's odd bedroom.

You wouldn't call Delia's mother fat, but she wasn't fashion model slim either; to Delia, she was just right.

But of course she was already dressed and had her light brown medium short hair pulled back in a pony tail, and a fierce look in her pale green eyes, determined to get her daughter out of bed.

At least she had something that might just work.

"Delia, Ian, come on, get up! We have to go pick up Danielle!"

That caught the young girls' attention, but she still didn't move, so her mother ripped the afghan off of her and made sure the other one was out of reach.

Delia… she was strange alright. She had a black metal bunk bed, but slept on the bottom, due to the squeaking the bunk bed did when she shifted in her sleep. But how she did sleep was strange and always surprised her mother; she slept on top of the covers, but under two thick afghans… in the middle of summer.

Her outfit wasn't any better, though.

Her top was a winter pajama top; a song sleeved pink shirt with dogs doing different things, black Betty Boop shorts, I mean REALLY short, and two different types of socks: On her left foot was a white sock, striped with pink and dark pink and on her right was a dark pink sock with orange checkers.

"Fine.. fine, I'm up ok?" She mumbled, sitting up.

Her hair was actually really amazing; she was born with a full head of black hair, but over the first few months of her life, it had changed from black to brown and then stayed blond for a while. But just a couple of years ago, her hair started getting brown streaks; natural streaks that everyone envied. She had bangs, well, what she considered bangs.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, not that you could really even call it a pony tail now; the hair was falling away from the band and framing her face already.

"That's not up!" Her mother muttered.

Delia gave her a "oh-fine-well-hold-your-horses-and-I-might-really-get-up" glare before she stretched and hit her head on the metal bunk above her, making who ever was up there snarl.

"You too, Ian." Mrs. Teichman told her son before walking out of the room.

Delia's feet hit the ground before she turned around, stood on the bottom bed, and looked at her half asleep brother.

"Come on, Ian." She said in a baby voice, tickling her twin's nose, "Wake-y wake-y!"

Delia was about to pull the covers off of him when a fist shot out from under the sheets and got her squarely in the snout.

"Ah!" Delia snarled, falling back onto the floor, "You're just as bad as Lane!'

She heard a chuckle from the covers before her brother sat up and muttered, "But I get to stay home all day! Why should I get up?"

"Because you have chores to do." Their mother said, passing the door.

Ian looked just like Delia. Which was probably obvious because they were twins.

He had the same streaked hair that was a mixture of blond, brown and dark brown. His hair wasn't nearly as long as hers, though.

He was the normal of the two, though, and thought his sister was mental. Who could blame him?

Delia shook her head at her brother and went to the closet they shared. Sure, she was a teenager and most would think that having them share a room was a little strange, but no matter how much they bickered, they were best friends and inseparable.

Delia grabbed simple, but some of her favorite clothes to wear; a new brown tank top, black clam-diggers and a white dress-up shirt that she wore when ever.

She quickly went to the bath room, changed, brushed her hair and teeth, came back, threw her pj's on the bed to use tonight and looked around.

It was going to be a long day at Abuela's, her dads' mother, even with Danielle there. Seeing as you have no idea who Abuela is, I might as well tell you…

She was a sugar freak. Nope, not diabetic, but she _hated_ sugar and everything at her house tasted bland.

One time when Danielle had come over with her to Abuelas', they'd scooped sugar-free ice cream into a bowl and got out the sugar-free chocolate syrup. Using Danielle as the guinea pig, the strawberry blond had put a tiny dab on the ice cream and tried it, telling Delia it was great. Delia, being the food monster she was, took the bottle of syrup and poured as much as she could on… only to have Danielle her of the bad after taste a few second later.

But not only that, she was dead with technology. She had a TV that didn't work, but played movies, so Delia grabbed her iPod, a couple of movies for them to watch, and packed her lap top into its' bag to carry along to work on all her stories she began to write and then slowly gave up on.

Having had everything she thought she needed, she grabbed her shades, black framed and the retro type that hade a couple of lines going over the plastic frames. Her mother thought she looked stupid with them on, but she loved them and they made her look interesting.

She slipped her flip flops on and then remembered why Danielle was coming over. Today was the second of July; a Thursday. That meant Youth Group with Jenny.

Jenny had been a girl that used to go to Delia and Danielle's school, but left shortly after befriending the girls. She'd invited them to her Youth Group, and the girls had gone ever since.

Since it was summer, they had swimming meetings; first they'd swim and then they'd work on whatever lesson they had for the summer.

Quickly grabbing a swimsuit, towel, and a change of clothes, Delia stuffed them into a bag and put it with her other things that she was taking.

By then Ian was up, although still in his boxers and t-shirt, and shuffling to the bath room.

"See ya, Ian!" Delia called, lugging her many things out to her moms pearl white Rav-4.

After putting them in the back, she hoped into the front seat with her mom at her side.

They pulled out, and started towards Danielle's place in Pinedale.

To pass the time, Delia listening to her iPod; Paramore, All American Rejects, Linkin Park….

And before long, the Rav-4 pulled up in front of Danielle's tiny house; it was a two bedroom, one bath and had the smallest kitchen/dining room/living room on the face of the planet. Not only that, three people, seven cats, a half blind dog and a rooster had to live there.

"Hi Cindy!" Delia called out, seeing Danielle's mother in the back yard. Cindy had short hair that was down to her shoulders, but was fairly tall. Her hair was died a copper-ish red and she was wearing working clothes.

"Deliaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa." Her name rang out as Danielle ran out of the door. Delia and Danielle hadn't seen each other in over a month, and being as close as they were, were glad to see each other.

Delia and Danielle were around the same height, but looked completely different; Danielle had light strawberry blonde hair that was originally curly, but was straightened every morning. Today she wore some new clothes; blue skinny jeans with two zipper pockets, a blue shirt with the four words, Live Laugh Love Rock, and flip flops.

They embraced before she grabbed her stuff, chucked it in the back and got in the car.

"Oh crap!" Mrs. Teichman exclaimed, "I forgot my coffee at home."

Delia whacked her head.

"You can get coffee at work mom." She told her mom with a roll of the eyes.

"No, come on. It won't take that long." Mrs. Teichman said turning the car towards home.

"Come on Delia, it's fine. Besides; I haven't seen Ian in forever." Danielle told her.

"Fine, fine…" Delia muttered before she and Danielle got into a deep conversation on Danielle's new clothes and a sale on skinny jeans at Hot Topic.

Reaching the house, Mrs. Teichman parked in the drive way and walked into the house. After a few moments later, both she and Ian walked out. And thankfully, Ian was dressed.

Ian got in the front seat and looked back at Danielle.

"Hey." He said with a quick smile before he turned back facing forward.

Delia blinked as her mother back out.

"Mom… why is Ian here?" Delia asked quietly, staring at the back of her brother's head.

"Because I just remembered he had a doctor's appointment this morning at 10:00 and I'm taking him to work with me." Mrs. Teichman told her daughter, backing out and starting towards her Abuela's house.

Delia let out a sigh of relief; at least she didn't have to deal with him all day.

Danielle and Ian were in a deep conversation, so Delia turned her head and looked out at a canal they were passing. Delia passed this same canal nearly every morning to get to school. Nothing had really changed, except for…

"Mom stop!" Delia called, her eyes widening.

A boy. A boy was laying on the side of the canal, his feet still in the water.

Mrs. Teichman pulled to the curb quickly.

"Why? What is it?" She asked quickly, watching as Delia unbuckled her seat belt.

"There's a boy by the canal!" She told her mother, grabbed Danielle and pulling her out of the car.

Both girls with Mrs. Teichman and Ian behind them raced to the limp body, pulling him away from the water and bending over him quickly.

"Is he alive?" Ian asked, reaching the boy, his blue eyes wide.

The boy was wearing a blue shirt with brown pants and red suspenders, which was weird… but he was clutching his stomach with his left hand while his right hand lay limply at his side.

"Girls, I really have to get to work and then Ian has to get to the doctors; do you think you could take the boy home and take care of him? You're not too far away from the house." Mrs. Teichman said, glancing around.

"'Course mom." Delia said quietly, staring at his face, "Danielle and I can get him home."

Danielle and Ian gave her a questioning looked before Mrs. Teichman and Ian left in the car.

"Well we can't carry him, he's too big for that… Maybe we should try and wake him?" Danielle suggested, looking at her friend.

Delia nodded silently before reaching a lightly tanned hand out to his pale face and lightly brushing his golden brown hair from his forehead.

At her touch, the boys eyes snapped open, and before Delia could react, her hand was held firmly in the boys grasp.

Delia let out a slight gasp as his hand tightened around her wrist as he looked around. He looked at her face, Danielle's face, their clothes, his surroundings, and the canal. He looked fearful for a moment before his face became rock solid on a glare up at Delia as his hand once again tightened, making her flinch.

"Where am I, and why have you brought me here?" He asked coldly, his blue eyes turning icy gray.

"You're… in Fresno, California, and I didn't bring you here, we found you by the water." Delia answered, feeling his cold, wet hand squeeze.

His eyes widened momentarily before he asked another question that baffled the girls.  
"What year is it? I mean… I haven't been out that long… it was the beginning of July, 1899… It's still July right?" He asked coldly, staring up Delia.

Both Delia and Danielle gasped before they looked to each other.

"1899?" Delia asked softly, "Dude… this is July 2nd, 2009…."

**X  
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**Well!?!?! You like it? Interesting huh? ^^ I wonder how Spot's going to react to this little time change. **

**And for your info, I actually described myself. And I got off subject and onto my eating habits, silly me! Almost everything I put about me is true 'cept for my name, town and… I don't have a twin brother… He died before we were born… But yeah! REVIEW PLEASE!!!**

**Yeah yeah, I don't own Newsies…. Wish I did though; I'd make Spot show up LOTS more!**

**P.S. My friend, is also writing a story that might be a continuance from this one, so once I'm finished here, look for hers! Love ya guys, and I want Reviews! I only got one that made me kinda happy! **


	5. About as Funny as a Heart Attack

**Spot Conlon 1882 to… 2009? Chapter 5, About as Funny as a Heart Attack**

**Spot's POV**

**July 2****nd****, 2009..?**

Cold. Unnatural and deadly cold was what Spot felt before he woke up. He felt dead, although he had no idea if you could feel dead or not. It felt like his whole body had slowly been ripped into millions of pieces and tossed into a river of defeat, fear and hurt. The pain was unbearable and he just wanted to rip his head off just to get rid of it. He desperately tried to move his hands, but felt as if he were in a block of ice. His muscles refused and his bones threatened to break if he tried.

But that wasn't what hurt the most. He was only 17, and he was dead. He had had so much to look forward to… but that was a lie. Every day he got to look forward to work. He starved if he was unable to work. But even _that_ didn't hurt the most; his newsies. The boys' that he loved like brothers, not to mention his one girl newsie, but what did it matter? One of them would take over his job and that would be the end of the Mighty and Unbreakable Spot Conlon.

No, not unbreakable. He lay here broken now; shattered into a million pieces.

But then he heard them; voices.

"There's a boy by the canal!" Was the first he heard. Spot had never been so happy to hear a living persons' voice. He wanted to move but knew he better not, so he lay there as he drifted in and out of a daze, all the while listening to the people who'd grown much closer.

Before anything was said, he felt a couple of pairs of hands grab the shoulders of his shirt and drag him further up a bank he was resting on.

His feet felt numb once he'd noticed why they'd pulled him up; his feet were in cool water. This sparked a flame in his stomach, making him warmer. Maybe someone had found him on the bank of the river?

But no… that wasn't possible. The environment was… different then Manhattan or Brooklyn, and he couldn't have floated that far down river, could he?

"Is he alive?" He heard a boy asked, hearing him approach.

Spot would have liked to glare up at him at the moment and tell him that he'd never die, but of course, thought better of it.

"Girls, I really have to get to work and then Ian has to get to the doctors; do you think you could take the boy home and take care of him? You're not too far away from the house."

He heard a woman talk next, and that was when he noticed their voices were different. Definitely not New York…

"'Course mom." The first voice he'd heard said quietly. He wanted to open his eyes and see who the soft voice belonged to; it was quite mesmerizing.

"Well we can't carry him, he's too big for that… Maybe we should try and wake him?" A different voice said.

He noticed that two pairs of foot steps walked off.

Spot wondered what to expect next when a light brush on his forehead jolted him awake. His eyes snapped open and his right hand grabbed the fingers that had touched him.

He looked around, surprised. First to the blond girls face, then the strawberry blondes face, their strange clothing, his surroundings and last, the body of water he suspected he came out of. He was soaking after all.

His face became fearful for a moment before he regained his composure and glared up at the blond, tightening his grip. He watched her flinch, but decided nothing of it.

"Where am I and why have you brought me here?" He asked as coldly as his voice would go.

"You're… in Fresno, California, and I didn't bring you here, we found you by the water." The girl said.

His eyes widened for a moment before he asked another question:

"What year is it? I mean… I haven't been out that long… it was the beginning of July, 1899… It's still July right?"

He didn't mean to sound so stupid, but he was confused and needed the answers _now_.

The blond and red head both gave each other wide expressions before the blond answered softly, "1899? Dude… this is July 2nd 2009…"

Spot stared up at the girls for a long time contemplating what to say next. He easily found the right expression and statement.

"The both of ya is 'bout as funny as a haht attack."

The blond pulled her wrist away from his hand.

"Excuse me?" She asked, glaring down at him, "You're the one dressed up like you're from some Renaissance Fair!"

The red head chuckled to herself, but was cut off by the blonds' glare.

"Wut?" Spot asked, trying to understand what she was saying.

"Nothing. Never mind. Now do you need help getting up?"

Spot raised an eyebrow before slowly sitting up.

He removed his left hand from his stomach, looking to see if he was still bleeding.

There was nothing there. No puncture wound… his clothes weren't even ripped, but he could have sworn that he'd been stabbed….

"Are you ok?" Delia asked, standing up and holding her hand out.

Spot stood with out her help.

"I really do't know…" He muttered, looking around. Everything was so different. No skyscrapers… no newsies. Just boring little houses and water.

"Ok… well I'm Delia, and this is my best friend Danielle." She said, motioning to herself and the red head.

"Weird names…" He muttered, "I'm Spot."

Danielle snorted.

"Oh yes, _we_ have weird names. You're the one named after a dog!" She chuckled, crossing her pale white arms.

"Excuse me?" Spot asked, his eyes hard and cold, electrifying like they'd always been when someone made fun of him.

"Oh nothing…" Danielle sighed.

"Can you walk?" Delia asked, looking Spot over.

"Wut do you tink, Miss?" Spot snarled, trying to stand up.

He failed miserably, falling back and bumping his head on the hard packed dirt below him.

"I tink youse is screwed, Mista." Delia mimicked, a grin spreading across her face.

Spot glared up at her, his eyes menacing. But he knew he wouldn't be able to hurt her for multiple reasons; she was a girl, and Spot Conlon didn't soak girls. And… she had the upper hand. She could walk and move while he… sat there.

Delia stood, holding her hand out of him.

"You can take my help, or we can leave you here by yourself. Take your pick, Mr. Conlon." She told him, keeping her hand extended.

Spot looked at her hand for a long time until he knew going with her and Danielle was the best thing to do, so slowly, he lifted up his pale hand and took Delia's.

He slowly sat up before she pulled him to his feet.

Although he obviously was the oldest of the three, he only stood a couple of inches taller then them.

Spot slowly started to walk, but his knees gave way, his muscles and bones unprepared for the weight.

Delia was there in a flash, catching him by putting her hands up and catching him lightly.

"Need help walking?" She asked, a smirk across her face.

"Shuah…" Spot mumbled, putting his arm around her.

Delia grabbed the hand that hung over her shoulder and started the long shuffling walk home with her best friend and a strange guy named Spot.

**X**

They finally reached the street she lived on, Delia's breath coming out in short gasps. Although Spot was skinny, he still weighed a good amount, and with almost all his weight positioned on her, she had to fight to keep walking.

Delia desperately hoped that no one was watching, because that would be… weird.

Reaching her front lawn, Delia gently set Spot down on the green grass and walked up to the brick house.

Her house wasn't huge, but if it was big enough to hold four people, four cats, two dogs, two rats, a turtle and a fish tank, they were happy. It was single story, had old red bricks and a white garage.

Delia walked to the fence by the garage, opened it up and typed in a password on a remote and instantly, one of the garage doors opened.

Spot gaped as the door magically opened, his eyes widened in surprise.

This was obviously and completely insane…

Jogging back to Spot and Danielle, Delia helped him stand up and brought him into the garage. They went through the door that connected the garage to the house, opened it and entered the Teichman household.

Spot looked around, his eyes searching.

Everything here was new; there were cats running at his feet, dogs braking like mad in the back yard, a white thing churning and making loud groaning noises…

He hadn't noticed that they were moving down a hall way. They passed a bed room with strange screen thingy's a bed and seat then a bathroom until they reached the third door out of the four.

Delia pushed the tan door open to reveal her room; the walls were a creamy white and she had a tan carpet with a blue spot in the center of the room. To the left of the door was a built in closet and a wall covered in drawings of different animals. To the wall parallel to them was a white dresser and a large window hidden by a strange curtain, and then a book case in the corner. Next to that book case was another, only this one actually housed books. Next to that was a desk filled with empty water bottles, crumpled paper and who knows what. And last but not least was the bunk bed. The sheets on both the bottom and the top were messed up and a laptop set on the floor by it.

Spot, finding the need to lay down at the moment, broke from Delia and Danielle and flopped down on the lower bunk, his right hand over his eyes.

Danielle glanced at Delia before she muttered, "I think I'm going to go raid your fridge Dee…"

Watching as Danielle disappeared around the corner of the hallway, Delia walked into her room and flopped down onto the edge of her bed, staring at the silent Spot.

"So… is there a reason why we found you near a canal and dressed like you are?" She asked him, her right eyebrow raised.

Spot removed his hand from his face and looked at Delia questioningly.

"Youse said dis is Fresna, Califoinia, right? And dat dis is duh year 2009?" Spot asked, staring her straight in the eyes.

"Well… no, not exactly like that, but yes; this is Fresno, California and this is July 2nd 2009." Delia told him, leaning on the metal frame of her bunk bed.

"Yea? Well I'm from New Yoik, the yeah 1889." He told her, his face looking slightly dazed.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Delia asked, kicking her flip flops off and setting her feet up on the sheets.

"I nevah said dat, but yea. I tink ya shuld." He told her, sitting up on his elbows with a bit of pain.

Delia let out a long breath, her bangs flying up.

"And I think I do." She sighed, her lips pursed.

"Good…" Spot nodded.

"Well… you should probably rest. You look pretty ragged to me." Delia told him, chucking one of her green afghans at him.

He took it with a slight smirk.

"Tanks kid. Dunno what wuda happened if I wus found by sum cop of sumtin." Spot told her before he realized what he had said.

He'd actually thanked someone… Good thing none of the newsies were around…

Before Delia could answer, a fluffy black cat with piercing gold eyes and a tiny white dot on her chest pushed open her bed room door and leaped onto her bed.

Spot gave the cat a glance before he looked to Delia.

"This is my cat, Shadow, my shadow."

Spot raised an eyebrow.

"Her name's Shadow but she acts like one too, never leaving my side." Delia explained at the cat made her slow walk to Spot's side.

The cat moved as if she'd have the whole day to get to her destination. She had no cares and always took her time.

Spot reached out carefully and scratched her behind the ear, sending loud purrs throughout Delia's room.

Shadow curled up and his side, closing her eyes and purring.

"I think she like's you…" Delia said with a smirk, "Consider yourself accepted to the family, Spot. She doesn't usually take to strangers."

Spot nodded his head, a true smile finally appearing on his face.

"Tanks kid… I mean Dilya." Spot muttered before pulling the afghan over his shoulders and turning on his side, instantly falling into sleep's clutches.

**X**

**X**

**DID CHU LIKE IT?!!??! I did! I had to take my time describing my house and stuff… Shadow IS my shadow… and my friend, Emi, says I described my room perfectly, but I dunno… REVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEW!!!! PLEASE! Much thanks to **_**purengrox, write24 **_**and my best buddy, **_**xXEmiShaeXx**_** for reviewing on the first four chapters! **


	6. Getting to Know the Ropes

**Scree/Hollis;; Well! Here it is, chapter six…. And the funny thing is, I'm incorporating Spot into what happened last week! So I kinda have everything laid out! I just need to incorporate an 1899 fictional New York character into my everyday life… It's quite interesting really! Some days I'm leaving out; today as an example. It's just me and Danny/Emi at my moms working, sitting at a computer… blar…**

**Disclaimer:: Well blar, what do you think? I don't know own Newsies, but I do own Delia… my house… my pets {{Yes all of the pets I named off in the last chapter really do belong to me}} and anything else that you don't recognize from Disney's Newsies.**

**X**

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**Spot Conlon 1882 to…2009? Chapter Six, Getting to Know the Ropes**

**Spot's POV**

**July 3****rd****, 2009**

Spot's eyes slowly opened as he was slightly prodded on the chest. At first he thought he'd ignore it, but then remembered that he was at some strange house in the future… and decided to open his eyes.

The first thing he saw were the river blue eyes that had never left his dreams; Delia's eyes of course.

No… not dreams; they were _nightmares_. She was stabbing him continuously and he felt it. Every little pin prick in his upper chest.

But then he noticed a furry black lump on his chest.

Shadow. It must have been her there, last night that was making him feel like he was being stabbed, what with he long claws.

"Wut do youse want?" Spot slurred, looking around. She had tidied her room slightly, not that he really cared.

"Well today's today." Delia told him, a sly smile on her face.

"Will ya just spit out wuts ya got ta say?" He snarled rubbing his eyes to try and get the sleep out of them.

"Well, you fell asleep yesterday and now you're awake and it's a new day and since you're from the past, I might as well show you around a teach you what you've got to know." She told him, giving his shoulders a shake.

Spot's fist collided with her face, although it wasn't nearly as light as what Ian had done the passed morning.

"OW!" Delia yelped, falling back onto her knees, "What was that for!?"

Delia was pretty used to getting beat up. She didn't exactly have a good reputation, and was very good in hand to hand combat.

"Nevah touch me again, ya heah?" Spot muttered sitting up and throwing the afghans, and cat, off of him.

"Fine… God. Morning to you too." Delia muttered, standing up.

"Wut time is it?" Conlon asked, standing up and stretching his back, his arms up in the air.

"Uhm… about 9:30." Delia told him, "Danielle's leaving for Yosemite in about an hour."

Spot shook his head. He wouldn't care even if she told him what this "Yosemite" was anyway.

"So, ya gonna show me da ropes, eh? Well foist, show me how ya lights up a room. I doubt ya use candle's, right?" Spot asked, looking silently from her to her room.

"Nope, I'll show you. Just stand right there." She went to the wall by the door and flicked a switch, turning the light on just above her desk.

Spot turned around and looked at the light, his eyes widened. Only the rich people could afford that.

He turned back to Delia when he finally noticed what she was wearing; a long sleeved pink top and really short black shorts.

He would have commented that she looked kind of like a… well, you know, but then remembered that he wasn't back in New York and times had changed. It might not be bright to call a lady that nowadays.

Delia saw him eyeing her pj's and she immediately blushed.

"Uh, I'll go get changed if you want me to…" She mumbled, blinking.

"Na, dat's ok…" Spot mumbled before he noticed the temperature of the room.

"Ain't ya boiling in dat top? I mean… it has ta be at least 90 degrees in heah!" Spot said, looking down at his sweaty shirt.

"Oh, yeah… sorry. I don't like the air on in here, I like the warmth… Uhm…Yeah, people call it my cave." She chuckled, walking out of the door, motioning for Spot to follow.

And he did, Shadow at his heels.

"Uh, befoah ya shoh me about, can ya shoh me de batroom?" Spot asked, his eyebrow slightly raised.

Delia pointed into the bath room while Spot hurriedly walked into the room, closing the door on Shadow's face.

Delia shook her head to Shadow before Delia walked into her moms bedroom to wake Danielle who was sprawled across most of the bed.

By the time Danielle was awake, Spot was out of the bathroom and down on one knee, petting Shadow.

Delia gave him a slight smile before walking down the rest of the hall and into the laundry/dining/kitchen room.

The washing machine and dryer were pushed up against a wall and near the door that let out into the back yard.

Then, in the center of the big room, was a table with four chairs around it, and then a kitchen a little further away. There were double doors at the farthest wall that led to what Spot guessed was the last room in the house.

Spot walked passed Delia who was in the lead and walked passed the table to a white wired cage in the corner, curious to what Delia was keeping in a cage.

Spot nearly jumped backwards when a black rat face popped up from the bedding on the bottom of the cage.

"Ya have rats in a _cage_!?" He asked, staring at the rat curiously as a second fatter one came into view, "Wut, are dey foah yoah cats or sumtin?"

Delia chuckled as she opened the cage and grabbed the smaller hooded rat.

"No! They're our pets!" She said, holding the rat, Lazuli, out to Spot who backed away.

"Oh, come on! They don't bite… hard. And their claws only hurt a little bit." Delia told him.

Spot shook his head.

"No, I cut duh line at those evil littah tings." Spot told her.

"Rowr'lal." A meow interrupted them from the large window ledge.

A fluffy brown tabby with pale green eyes stared up at Spot.

"Oh, hey Precious." Delia said with a smile, putting Lazuli in with Jasmine and shutting the door.

Spot only blinked silently.

Next Delia turned around and went to the doors that shut out the last room from the rest of the house.

"Wait, why is deh doah closd?" Spot asked before she opened them.

"Well.. you see, our oldest cat, an eighteen year old named Odo, gets chased by the other cats and they eat her food, so we make sure they don't bother her. She _is _a senior citizen." Delia joked, opening one of the wooden doors.

Delia slipped through with Spot right behind her; Danielle was too busy packing to take the tour with them.

The front door could be seen from where they stood, and the green living room carpet as well, but a coat closet was the only thing separating the carpet from the cork tile of the entrance way.

"Well, this is about it." Delia told him, flopping down onto the three seating couch, her feet up on the flower designs.

"I's a nice playce ya gots here. Wut's dat?" Spot asked, pointing to the TV, sitting on the identical love seat couch up against the coat closet.

"That's the TV, or television. We can watch all kinds of things on it." Delia tried to explain. How do you explain something you just grow up with and have forever?

Spot nodded his head before something black and smooth caught his attention in the far corner, in front of the three large wall windows that showed the back yard patio.

"And what's _that_?" He asked, nodding his head towards it.

"Oh... that's my piano... I've played it since I was six..." Delia muttered helplessly. She desperately _hated_ the piano and having to play it for the passed eight years.

"Play somtin foah me?" Spot asked with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest.

"How about not?" Delia muttered with a roll of the eyes; performances were another thing she hated.

"Jus one quik song?" Spot asked, pretending to pout. He wanted to hear something beautiful played by the piano.

"No!" Delia snapped, glaring at him before she stood up and left the room.

Spot rolled his own eyes before standing up to follow her.

But he stopped when he heard a quiet, "Meow?"

He glanced over at the entertainment center, and there, sitting were there had been empty air before, and a old gold, brown and black tabby.

"So, youse must be Odo." Spot said, quietly, walking softly and slowly over to the cat. He had a feeling she'd be skittish, and she was, staring up at him with giant pale green eyes. But he noticed there was a slight redish vein like thing in the bottom of her right eye; must be because of her age.

Falling lightly to his knees, Spot reached out a gentle hand and touched the old cats head.

At first Odo pulled back, but noticing he ment no harm, started purring and pushing up against his hand with her face.

Spot smiled, scratching her face with his finger tips.

"Wow..."

Spot whipped his head around to see Delia leaning against the coat closet, her arms crossed.

"Why 'wow'?" Spot asked, looking away from her to continue petting Odo.

"Well.. because it's taken me my whole life for Odo to accept me and it took Danielle a good twenty nights over here before she accepted her... And her you come, petting her on your first meeting. That's just really strange for Odo..." Delia murmured, thinking back to a story her dad told her; his parents didn't even believe they had a cat named Odo for years because whenever they came over, the old cat would disapear behind the entertainment center.

"Tha is strange, ain't it?" Spot said, looking back to Delia who was walking slowly over to Odo.

The golden black cat looked up when Delia reached her hand out to pet her and took a couple of steps back, out of Delia's reach.

Delia pursed her lips, feeling rejected.

Spot looked at Delia's face before grabbed her hand with his and pulling her to Odo, who cautiously sniffed their hands and started to purr, rubbing against both of the hands.

Delia gave a slight smile, looking over to Spot.

"Thanks..."

**X**

**X**

The Friday carried on with out any events important to the readers at the moment... until night fall.

Spot climbed into the bed that he and Delia would have to share since Spot didn't want Delia to sleep on a couch or the floor, although she could have very well slept in the bed her mom slept in.

{{In case any of you were wondering, yes I have a dad but he and my mom don't share a room, due to the fact that both he and my mother snore like mad, so he sleeps in the room I constantly refer to as the "computer room". Lucky me, my room's between both of them so I get snoring suround sound!}}

Spot rolled over to the farthest part of the bed he could get to without smashing his face against the wall while Delia slept half on the bed, half on the floor, let alone her face plastered to the desk that blocked her head.

Danielle had left that morning, leaving Spot with a "good luck" and Delia with "if you don't ask him on a date I will".

Spot had over heard this.

"What did youse say?" He snarled harshly, glaring at Danielle.

Danielle, being slightly hard headed, had snarled back, "Bite me, Conlon." before she left.

And that had left Delia with a highly pissed off Spot. She'd have to remember to sock Danielle next time she saw her.

**Around Midnight**

Spot rolled over slightly his sleep and noticed that Delia wasn't where she usually was.

Spot opened his eyes slightly, seeing a faint light at her desk. She was writing in some sort of blank book... in the middle of the night?

Spot stayed away, although pretended to sleep until Delia crawled into bed and lay down, turning te light off and drifting into sleep.

Once Spot was sure she'd fallen asleep, he slowly crawled over her and turned on a tiny bit of light, opening the book.

That was when he noticed there were dates at the top, written in slightly messy hand writing; it must be her diary.

Spot thought about _not_ reading it, but the curiosity was eating him alive and he just had to see what she'd written in the middle of the night.

Spot turned to the last entry, quickly skimming over the pages with slightly widened eyes.

_**July 3rd, 2009; 12:09**_

_**Dear Diary,**_

_**This is only the second day that Spot has been here, you know, the guy who said he's from the past? Well alot of strange things happened today... Odo actually came up to him purring, and this is the first time she's met him! And then when I went to pet her, she back away from me? Can you say rejection? Well... I have to share a bed with him, but he always sleeps pushed up against the wall like I'd bite him. Well, even though I DO bite, I mean... well... You know, I'm just being sarcastic as usual, because I do bite, but not that hard. Talking about biting, Danielle told Spot to "bite her" and left me with a very pissed off guy from New York, 1899... Strange saying that... Note to self: Bite Danielle. Hard. Well... I guess I have something to confess. Ever since I met Spot I guess I've kind of liked him, but... I don't know. Should I tell him? I mean he's from the passed, what chance do we really have if he does? Not that he does... I wonder what he's dreaming about right now. He just rolled over, which is strange for him since he's usually clinging to the wall. Do I stink or something? Well there I go again, blabbering on and on as I go... I better get to sleep; tomorrow's the block party and Abuela's coming over so we can celebrate her Birthday... Night!**_

_**Delia**_

_**P.S. Technically, it's July 4th, not the 3rd, since it IS midnight. Happy Fourth of July!**_

Spot was about to set the Diary back down when he heard a snarl.

"Are you reading my _Diary_!?" She hissed, grabbing the tiny book from his hands, looking at the date he'd read. Her face suddenly became feirce.

"I can't believe you! Don't you ever want some privacy!?" She said through clenched teeth, ripping the papers in the book to shreds.

"No, Dilya, I cane expl-"

"Just don't talk to me..." She muttered with a sharp glare at him before chucking the ripped papers and the rest of the diary into the trash.

Delia plopped into the bed and pulled the afghan over her head before Spot could say anymore.

"Good going, Conlon..." Spot heard from the top bunk, the younger boy looking down at him with a pissed face.

"I's not my fault!" Spot started before Ian shook his head.

"Don't apologize to me; it's her feelings you hurt." He muttered with a glance down at his sister, before he too disapeared under his covers.

Spot carefully manuvered over Delia and settled down next to her, staring at the afghan he was under.

He carefully reached for the green sheet, but once he touched it, it jerked away, moving closer to the edge of the bed.

"Dilya?" Spot whispered softly, "I'se sorry 'bout readin' dat... it wasn't mah place... can ya fogive me?"

"Why should I?" He heard Delia mumble through the covers.

"Becus, dat was yoah personal thoughts and feelin's, and no one else shuld read dem... I'se'll foget everting, I promise..." Spot told her, lightly taking the afghan from her face to see her eyes puffy from crying.

"Promise?" She choked out rubbing her face.

Spot nodded slightly, gave her a deep look of apology and then smirked.

"Is I relly dat dreamy?"

Delia rolled her eyes and smacked him with one of her pillows.

"Good night, Spot." Delia said, rolling onto her side, her back to Spot.

"G'night Dilya..." Spot muttered back before his back was to hers and they both drifted off into a soundless sleep.

**X**

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**DID YOU LIKE!?!!??! =D Spot's actually human and not always the cold heartless man you make him out to be, so yay! Lol, it was Danny's idea to put in the "bite me" part! Thank you Adopted Sister! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!! Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far! I've got a very emotional thing going on right now, so I'll be adding it ASAP!!! THANKS!!!  
**


	7. Happy Forth?

**Hollis/Scree: This is one of my most favorite Chapters! 1., because half this stuff REALLY happened, and 2., because Spot's half naked in my house =P. Don't worry, It's nothing bad!**

**Delia: NOTHING BAD!!?!?! Do you know how STRANGE it is having a boy from 1899 New York walking around you house naked!?**

**Hollis/Scree: STRANGE!?!?! Dude I'd pay BIG money to have Spot in my house! O.O Anyway, on with the chappie!**

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**Spot Conlon 1882 to…2009? Chapter Seven, Happy Fourth?...**

**Spot's POV**

**July 4****th****, 2009**

For once, Spot had woken up before Delia, his eye lids blinking away the sleep from his gray blue eyes.

Delia and Spot had slowly gotten used to sleeping on the same bed, so they weren't glued to the wall or, for Delia's matter, falling off the bed.

Spot stared up at the black metal above him for a moment before he turned his head towards Delia.

She was breathing a little deeply and her right hand was up by her cheek, her fingers curled slightly.

Spot stared at her for a long while, his stormy eyes trying to read her expression as she slept.

Her slightly rounded cheeks were relaxed and her lips were parted only about a centimeter apart. Her hair, messy after a night's sleep, was covering half her face, the blonde shining in the sun.

Wait.

Sun.

Delia never opened the windows in her "cave", so someone else must have opened them before he'd woken up.

Taking his eyes off the window and back to Delia, Spot noticed that he had brought his hand from behind his head and brushed the hair back from Delia's face, making her stir softly in her light sleep.

Spot's index finger rested lightly on her cheek before he took his hand from her and looked up again.

"Mornin'…" He heard at his ear.

He turned his head, looking into those similar river blue eyes. Not more than just a second ago, she'd been asleep.

"Hullo…" He murmured, his right eyebrow raising.

"You know what today is?" Delia asked, a smile painted across her lightly tanned face.

"Nah, wut's taday?" Spot asked sarcastically, giving Delia one of his infamous glares.

"Forth of July, duh! Come on; help me get Ian up!" Delia chuckled, picking her feet up and pushing the mattress above her with her feet.

Spot rolled his eyes, crawling out of the bed; he didn't want to be between them when they started their spat.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Ian snarled, rolling over on to his side, glaring down at Spot.

Spot put his hands up, telling him, "Do't blame me."

Ian rolled his eyes and decided he didn't want a fight this morning, so he jumped off the bunk and strolled out of the room.

"You know, we're having a block party, and you'll get to meet everyone." Delia smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed, although once she looked up at Spot, her smile faded, "Uh oh…"

Spot looked behind himself then turned back and blinked at Delia.

"Wut? Ya seein' a ghost?" He asked, fingering his cane which never left his side.

"No… two things; your name. You can't tell people your name is Spot… that's just really strange." Delia explained, standing up in black shorts and a white t-shirt.

Spot nodded; he'd thought of this already.

"Den I'll jus use my real name." Spot told her, sitting at her side.

"Oh? You have a real name? Thanks for telling me." Delia chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Yea; it's Michael. Dat's wut me parents called me." Spot said, rubbing his eyes.

"Hmm… Michael… Ok. Now the second thing; your clothes. You've been sleeping and living in those clothes since we met, and you probably should get a shower." Delia told him, looking up from her lap.

"Oh… well I had't tawt about dat…" Spot admitted, running his hand through his darkish blonde hair. He glanced down at his dirty and worn clothes; it might be ice to wear something else for a change… but it might be different, telling people his name was Michael. If he tried to tell them his name was Michael and they tried to call him, he'd probably take no notice.

"Well… you're about Ian's size so you might be able to borrow some of his clothes. Go ask him; I need to take a shower. See ya in a bit."  
At that, Delia spun around, grabbed some clothes from the closet and drawers and left the room, turning towards her mothers bathroom.

Spot nodded his head ad went off to search the house for Ian.

He found him just exciting the second bathroom, scratching the top of his head.

"Hey, Dilya said dat I should ask youse foah some clothes and dat I shuld take a showah." Spot told Ian, stopping him in his tracks.

"Oh really? K, well… I'll go grab some clothes and you just wait in the bathroom." Ian told him, brushing passed him to go to the bedroom.

Spot walked lightly into the bathroom; it had cork tiles like most of the house, brown tiles that reminded him of dirt, and plain walls.

Well… not really plain. There was writing on the wall, and all over too. Above the toilet, over the white bathtub and even where the mirror was supposed to be.

Ian had walked in silently while he was surveying the bathroom.

"I left the clothes in the room because Delia's taking the first shower." Ian told him, looking at the walls.

"Wut 'appened heah?" Spot asked, signaling to the walls.

"Well… mom was planning on putting new wall paper up and when she took the old stuff off she found really old doodles, writing, sayings, all the stuff. So whenever people come over, we tell 'em to write on the wall so… ta-daa." Ian explain, "Delia wrote one of my favorites."

Ian pointed to a piece of the wall that had black hand writing on it.

Spot stepped over to the wall reading: _"You're a great friend, but it we ever get chased by brain eating zombies, I'm tripping you. =3 ~Delia"_

Spot raised an eyebrow, a smirk sliding across his face.

"Brain eatin' zombies, eh? Where'd she come up wit dat?" Spot asked, looking back at Ian.

"I dunno… Myspace I suppose?"

Spot just stared at him.

"Uh… I dunno." Ian finished, "Come on; let me explain what thing's you'll be using when you take your shower."

So Ian showed Spot shampoo, conditioner and the soap he'd use and then left him to go watch TV.

Spot looked at the stuff Ian had given him before putting the stuff on the counter and wandering down to the door Delia was behind. Spot leaned back against the creamy white walls, waiting for her to exit.

He had to wait a while, though; girls being girls took longer then guys in the shower, and it wasn't just a fact.

Finally, the sound of water stopped and after a few more minutes, out came Delia dressed in purple mix matched socks, purple skinny jeans, a red shirt and dripping dark brown hair.

She glanced up, blinking slightly.

"Hey." She smirked, whipping her hair with a light green towel.

"Interestin' outfit." Spot chuckled, raising an eye brow.

"Oh, haha. Like yours' is any better!" Delia muttered, flicking her fingers at Spot, making water droplets hit his face.

"Anyway, it's your turn, so go." Delia stalked passed him, flicking her wet hair in his face.

Spot only shook his head before he walked down the hall to the other bathroom and closed the door.

His shower was faster then Delia's, but a lot longer then one he'd take back at home.

Home...

Sure, he missed his newsies, but he'd never admit it out loud. But he had a few questions he wished would be answered. Like... why was he sent here? Who sent him here? And would he ever get home? And if not, where would he live? He could live with Delia and her family his whole life... and what he read the night before... could he-

"GAH!" Spot gasped, rubbing his eye like crazy. Soap bubbles had dripped down from his hair and into his eyes, causing a nasty stining.

After rinsing out his hair, and eye, he excited the shower and grabbed a towel. Only when he started drying did he realize Ian had left the clothes he was to use in the bedroom.

Wrapping his towel around his waist and holding it securly, Spot, dripping and wet, left the bathroom and shuffled down the hall into the bedroom. Delia must have heard him because she turned around in her gray chair with a smile. But the smile didn't last long. It fell and her eyes widened slowly at the sight of a half naked Spot before she whiped around.

"Uhh... yeah?" She asked, her cheeks redening.

"Ian was supposed ta git me sum clothes but he left 'em in heah." Spot said, a smirk sliding across his face.

"They're on the bed..." Delia answered quickly, looking down at the cat sketch she was working on.

"Can ya get 'em foah me?" Spot asked kindly, although inside he was laughing.

"Can't _you _get them?" Delia asked with a slight snarl.

"I do't wanna git dah capet wet." Spot said, his smirk widening. He liked the affect he had on girls when he was shirtless.

"I always get the carpet wet." Delia hissed, becoming angered.

"Please?" Spot asked softly.

Delia waited a few seconds before she let out a sigh/groan, stood, grabbed the clothes off the bed and stalked over to Spot, her head tilted down while her eyes watched the floor.

Spot chuckled lightly while he tied the towel tightly around his waist, took the clothes in his left hand and brought his right one up to Delia's face, placing his index finger lightly under Delia's chin and lifting her face to his, their noeses only inches apart.

"Tank you..." He said quietly, seeing Delia's ear redden.

He gave her a quick smile before he turned around and walked back into the bathroom to change.

While changin into the strange clothes, Spot thought over what he'd just done.

He hadn't intended on doing that in the first place, but it had felt right to do... He thought back to last night when he read what Delia had put in her Diary. Could he love her...?

No.

Love?

Never.

Spot Conlon loving?

Impossible...

?

**X**

**X**

Once Spot had changed into the clothes Ian gave him, blue jeans, a slightly tight white t-shirt and black hightops, Delia had yanked him outside.

There were about three different little parties happening; one next door to Delia, one infront of the abandoned house on the corner just across from Delia's house, one about five houses down, whom Delia braely knew, and one next to them.

"So... uh, which one is we goin' to?" Spot asked, glancing down both streets that made a _| shape.

"Well... my mom and dad are next door, so I guess we'll go Cameron and Corbins." At that Delia took off down the tree to the house on the other side of the family that Delia didn't know.

Spot rolled his eyes and slowly followed after her. By the time he reached the house, Delia was standing by a large table piled with food.

Spot's jaw almost dropped.

That was enough food to feed his newsies all year if they ate small portions. Times had really changed...

Delia had moved from the table and was talking to a tall tan guy with straightened black hair who had a slim form and a skate board. He wore a blue shirt and blue skinny jeans with vans.

"Who's this guy?" The guy asked, looking at Spot.

"This is my friend S-" Delia stopped herself. Spot wasn't a normal name.

"Michael." Spot cut in quickly shoving his hands in his pockets like he'd seen Ian do.

"I'm Jordan." He replied to Spot before he looked back at Delia, "Where's Ian?"

"Oh, he's at home. He says he's "not feeling good."" Deli muttered, using air quotes.

"Hmm... Ok. Well where's he from?" Jordan asked, changing the subject once again.

"I'm from New Yoik. I met Delia on Myspace and I had ta come heah foah duh summah, so I tought I'd meet her." Spot said, thinking quickly.

Delia blinked quickly before nodding her head, giving Spot a smile.

"Huh. Ok. So Michael, do-"

"Just call me Spot." Spot cut in quickly. If people tried calling him Michael, he'd probably forget they were talking to him.

"Spot?" Jordan asked, his brown eyebrows knitting, "What kind of name is that? You're not a dog are you?"

Spot clenched his fists in his pockets, but remained calm.

"Just a name my family gave me." He said softly, trying not to glare.

"Hmm... well I'm going to go get Cameron." And at that, Jordan left.

"I already hate 'em." Spot spat {{Lolz, Spot spat... ADD!!}} to Delia once Jordan was out of ear shot.

"Yeah... I know. He's not the best of guys." Delia said, looking down.

"You really shuldn't be hanin' around 'im." Spot told her, honestly hoping she'd listen.

Delia's head shot up and she looked at him carefully before her jaw clenched.

"I can take care of myself, thanks." She said sourly before she grabbed a cookie off the table and walked off.

Damn...

**X**

**X**

The parties continued on slowly. Ian didn't arrive until late and they all really just sat around and ate. Then came the fire works. Each tiny party had it's own seperate fire works, so there were always four going off at once. Jordan, Cameron, a tall 16 year old with brown hair and brown eyes, and Corbin, a short 14 year old with curly brown hair and brown hair, had taken some sparklers, broken then, put the powder on the ground, about 5 sparklers all together, and lit them, blinding everyone.

The parties started packing up after that and Spot and Delia stayed behind to help.

"Hey." Jordan said aproaching Delia, "Cameron's going to bring his projector to my house and we're going to watch a movie in the ping pong room. Wanna come?"

"Sure, I'll ask my mom and text you." Delia smiled.

Sot only understood a few words in their sentances... projector, movie, ping pong, and text were words he still needed to learn.

They started their way back to the house.

"You don't mind, do you? If I got watch a movie?" Delia asked hopfully.

"Jordan's gonna be dere, right?" Spot asked, looking ahead of himself.

"Yes..." Delia said quietly, looking up at him.

"Well den yes, I do mind." Spot told her.

"You're not my mother, you know!" Delia hissed, kicking a rock on the side walk.

"Den I'm comin wit chou." Spot said, looking at her, his eyes strangly soft.

Delia blinked but nodded.

"Alright."

After much persuasion that nothing would happen and that Cameron and Spot would be there to keep her safe, Delia's father said it was alright. So Delia and Spot grabbed some pillows off her bed and walked to Jordans house.

It wasn't his house, though. His grandparents lived there and he spent the night there once in a while. They reached the house with Cameron right behind then. They walked into what would be considered a living room with a ping pong table, falling apart, in the center, and a giant wall at one end. They helped move the breaking ping pong table back to the other wall and moved a yellow couch so they could watch the movie. They set the projector up on the ping pong table then realized that they'd have to duck down to watch the movie. So while Cameron set up the projector behind them, Jordan sat down on the far right of the couch, Delia flopping down next to him, the pillow in her lap.

Spot smiling lightly to himself before he sat down between them, his pillow behind his back.

Delia rolled her eyes, giving Spot a glance. He was smirking. What else?

Delia rolled her eyes while Cameron sat on her other side and started the movie. First he put in this really old movie that was supposed to be scary, but it wasn't, of course, so he got back up and put a different movie in; The Bucket List.

Although they were pretty quiet throughout the movie, except for Joardan complaining that it was boring and then cracking his iPhone screen when he threw it up and miss, but Spot's attention never left Delia and Cameron. He was being strange... Him and Delia kept fighting. Not fist fighting, but.... him poking her and she'd poke him back. Or his leg knocking hers and she doing it back. This irritated Spot, of course. He was starting to think he should have sat on that side.

At one point during the movie, Cameron had said his arm hurt and put his arms up above Delia's, his hand close to Spot's face. He could have bit him... he would have too, if Delia hadn't suddenly complain.

"Wow it's hot... Jordan, do you have any shorts I can borrow?" She asked, yawning.

"Sure, come on." So he and Delia walked to him room just a few feet away and Cameron's arm fell lower.

They came back, Delia announcing all he had were swim trunks. She went to sit back down but saw Cameron's hand and hesitated, but only briefly before she flopped down with Cameron's arm over her shoulders.

Delia gave Spot a wide eyed looked.

Cameron's hand was touching his shoulder, and once again he would have bit him.

"Move over a bit." Cameron murmured, scooting over... towards Delia.

Delia did as he said and his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand laying on her arm.

At this point, Delia gave Spot a "Please-help-me-I-don't-know-what-the-heck-he's-doing" look, but Spot didn't know what to do. He was confused, a battle clashing in his mind. Was he... jealous of Cameron?

**No. Stop thinking those things, Spot. You're not jealous of that fuc-**

He stopped himself. He... _was_?

He didn't move the rest of the movie.

The movie ended and when Spot looked at Delia, she was asleep in Cameron's arm. Now _that_ was ticking him off.

"I've got to go to the bathroom... can you hold her?" Cameron asked, looking at Spot.

Spot raised his eyebrow but nodded, lifting his left arm and taking Delia's shoulder lightly. He carefully slipped his arm around her shoulders and let her lean her head against his shoulder. Delia let out a little sigh, moving her head lightly against Spot's shoulder.

At first, Spot stared down at her, his muscles tense and his breath stopped, but he relaxed, his hand falling to her arm lightly.

Delia shrugged a little bit, once again closer to Spot. She crossed her arms, her hand coming to rest on his hand on her arm. This felt... right...

And then _he_ came back, thanked Spot and took Delia back, his arm over her shoulder and his hand playing with her arm.

This time she woke up , yawning and standing up.

"What time is it?" She asked groggily.

"About one thirty." Jordan mumbled, standing up.

"Wow... well I think we should go. Thanks guys." Delia smiled before she turned to the door.

"See ya Michael." Jordan said.

Spot nodded.

"Yeah."

Well... one thing he knew. These people from the future were _crazy_...

**X**

**X**

**There it is! Sorry it took so long! Most of this stuff ACCTUALLY happened! Including the arm around my shoulders. I was completely shocked and when i asked Jordan if he liked me, he said-... Well. You'll see. This isn't over just yet =3. REVIEW!!! I'm Also going to be making a character sheet that shows every characters name and what they look like, so keep your eyes open for that! AND, I'm leaving for VBS THIS Monday! It lasts this Monday the 20th to the 24th, and I'll try to type a quick chapter during the weekend, and then Monday the 27th to Friday the 31st! I shall be gone a LONG time and I shall miss all of you! Don't worry, the chapters will be coming faster now! I've got the WHOLE week worked out. **

**Wait... You must be thinking, "Whole week? What?" What I mean is, Spot Conlon is in a WHOLE WEEK of me life and real things are happening that happened to me in the realness! So yeah, it's all good! 'Cept for the last day Spot's here.... Then you'll see... I LUV YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING!!!!!!! THANKS!!!!!!!!! REVIEW SOME MORE! I DON'T BITE!!!**

**~Me  
**


	8. Just Another Day With Her

**Another one of my favorite chapters! This isn't going to be huge or very long, I'm more focused on what happens at night, which I had meant to put in… chapter six? Seven? One of those chapters, but I had forgotten all about it! And, I wish to establish the ginormous love/hate relationship Delia and Spot have, since I've been enjoying myself with all the lovey dovey stuff! So here it is, enjoy, my lovely crowd!**

**X**

**X**

**Spot Conlon 1882 to… 2009? Chapter Eight, Just Another Day with… Her…**

**Spot's POV**

**July 5****th****, 2009**

This time, Spot awoke late in the day; around 11:00 in the morning, which was quite unusual for him, seeing as he'd always waken around 8:00. But waking up this morning, Spot was greeted by an interesting… position. He was a… pillow. Delia's left cheek was pressed against his shirtless pale chest, her arm draped across his stomach. His own arm was around her shoulders. Her beautiful blond hair with brown streaks was tickling his chest and neck, making him smirk lightly to himself. There she was again… with him, of course. She was very beau-

_**NO.**_

_**SHE IS NOT BEAUTIFUL AND YOU ARE NOT IN LOVE!!!**_

His mind screamed to him, but he didn't pull away. He didn't want to listen to his brain. He wanted to listen to his feelings, and his feeling told him to stay. To protect her. To…

She shifted lightly in her slumber, her lips brushing his ribs, making his skin tingle under her touch.

He closed his eyes, his arm tightening around her. Protection. He would always be there to protect her.

He felt her yawn and his arm slid from her shoulders and lay at her side. She was waking up and he wasn't exactly sure how'd she react to this.

Her face lifted from his skin, leaving his skin begging for her to stay. Her arm disappeared from his stomach and he felt her leave the bed and walk out of the room.

He quickly opened his eyes to see her arrive back in the room.

"Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?" She asked, stopping in her tracks. This morning she was wearing an overly large white t-shirt that said;

_Team Jacob_

_Who's afraid_

_of the big, bad_

_Wolf?_

And shiny black soccer shorts.

Delia's eyes strayed to his white chest, making them widen slightly. He too glanced down to see a red splotch on his pale chest where Delia's cheek had been moments before.

"I am so sorry..." Delia mumbled quietly, taking her eyes off his chest and to his eyes.

Spot sat up, cracking his back in process; making Delia wince.

"How do ya know you did dat?" Spot asked with a smirk as he stood up off the bed, standing right in front of Delia, his gray blue eyes searching her river blue ones.

"I... I'm sorry...." Delia muttered, her eyes staring down at the ground.

"Dat's ok." Spot answerd softly.

"No, stop lying. You read what I put in my Diary and now you must think that-"

But Spot's left hand slipped over her mouth and he bent his head down, his left cheek brushed her right one as his mouth went to Delia's ear.

She could feel his hot breath against her neck and ear and could've just bit his hand.

"I said i's ok." He whispered in her ear, making her spine shiver, "In time, you'll find out why..."

Delia's eyes closed as he pulled his hand away, her breath coming out in short chocked gasps. Spot leaned his head back, but left his forehead against Delia's. His hand traveled down from her mouth to her should and he paused on her elbow, holding her firmly.

His right hand came up and brushed her bangs from her eyes, that hand resting on her cheek.

Her eyes shot opened and stared into his, confusion ringing through her mind.

Spot almost leaned down, but a firm hand squeezed its way between Delia and Spot and pushed her back.

She, being off guard and in a trance, was flung backward into her closet, hitting her head and letting out a sharp yip of pain.

Spot grabbed the hand and gripped it tightly, noticing who it was; Ian.

"**What **were you doing to my sister?" Ian snarled, ripping his hand from Spot's grip.

Spot ignored Ian and went to Delia, who sat on the ground, her back against the wall and her hand on the back of her hand. Her blue eyes glared up at Ian, tears leaking from the sides of her eyes.

Spot grabbed her free arm and side, picking her up gently and whispering to her, "Are youse awright?"

Ian pushed his way between Spot and Delia again, pushing Delia back into the door.

"Ian would you **_stop_**!?! That **_hurt_**!" Delia snarled, holding her head, which had gotten hit by the door again. Tears were streaming down her cheeks freely now; by anger or pain, Spot didn't know.

"No! I will not stop! Not while he's... touching you like that!" Ian turned and hissed to Delia, his sky blue eyes blazing.

Spot pushed his way passed Ian and helped Delia up again, holding her to him.

"Would ya jus go? She's foine wit me, got it? I kept her safe at da movie wit Cameron and Jordan. I can keep 'er safe heah, too. I won't hoit Dilya, Ian. Youse of all people shuld know dat." Spot told him calmly, his arms wrapped tightly around Delia's waist.

Ian blinked coldly at Spot for a moment before he pushed passed the both of them and out the door.

Taking Delia along with him, Spot closed the door and then picked her up, taking her to the bed and laying her down.

"Youse shuld lay down foah a bit; ya hit'cha head pretty ha'd." Spot told her, taking his eyes from her and looking at the sheets.

"What did you mean when you were talking to Ian?" Delia asked, holding her hand to her head.

"Nutin' dat you shuld be worryin' 'bout, Dilya." Spot told her, brushing her bangs from her face.

Once again, Spot looked away from her, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Spot?" Delia asked quietly.

Spot looked to those eyes again, his filled with sympathy.

"Do... do you love me?" She asked softly, staring up at him with careful eyes.

Spot opened her mouth to answer her, but he closed it.

Spot leaned his face down to her and rested his lips against her forehead for a second before pulling back.

"I really do't know." He answered, and it was true. His mind said one thing while his feelings said another.

"Delia! Go do your music!" Delia's mother called from another room.

Delia rolled her eyes while Spot smirked down at her.

"Finally, I'll git ta heah ya play!" He said, standing up and pulling Delia up slowly.

"Ha, no way! I don't want you to hear me play." Delia muttered darkly.

"Please? Come on, wut's wrong wit hearin' ya play?"

"Nothing, I just don't want you to." Delia hissed, pulling from him.

Spot hands remained locked on Delia's arms.

"Please, Dilya?"

"No, Spot! I hate this and I don't want anyone to hear me play!" She hissed, trying to pull away.

"Dilya, i's ju-"

Delia whiped around, pulling her arms from his grasp.

"I. Said. NO." Delia snarled before stalking out of the room, "You know how to piss me off Conlon!"

* * *

The day had passed uneventful; sitting around with nothing to do. Delia had ignored Spot most of the day, after he begged to hear her play.

So now they both lay in bed; Spot laying on his back, staring at the top of the bed, and Delia lay plastered to the edge of the bed.

Neither was sleeping and were unable to find sleep for a long while.

Finally, after about an hour of silence, Spot invited sleep to take him over. He closed his eyes and yawned.

Right before falling to sleep, he felt the bed shift and covers hit his bare chest.

Keeping one eye closed, he watched Delia crawl out of the bed and leave the room, closing the door behind her.

Spot waited a couple of minutes before he too crawled out of the bed and silently went to the door.

He opened it a crack, making sure Delia wasn't there, and came out.

Both bathrooms were open and everyone but Delia and Spot were asleep, so he wandered down the hall way, making his steps light and soundless.

No one was in the dining room or kitchen, so that only left one place; the living room.

But then he heard it: beautiful notes dancing their way from the living room and to his ears.

The wooden door was open and he peeked through to see Delia sitting at the piano.

The music made hit heart beat faster with every note. The sound was amazing.

Carefully, he snuck around the couch to stand a few feet behind her.

He listened to the music with a critics ear and... found nothing wrong with the notes. They all flowed from the piano and sang a song, told a story.

Once the last note was played, Delia let out a long breath, smiling to herself.

Spot leaned down, his mouth right by her ear.

"Dat was very beautiful." He whispered.

Delia, who hadn't heard or seen Spot, swung around, hitting him in the jaw with her right fist.

Spot, being surprised, stumbled back, holding his hand to his jaw. That had... hurt.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! You just surprised me!" Delia whispered, her eyes widening as she stood from the piano bench.

"Na.... dat's ok. It only hoit a little bit." Spot teased, coming to Delia's side to look at the piano, "Dat really was good, ya know. Youse shuld be pwowd of yoahself."

"You really think so?" Delia asked, looking at him with a confused look on her face.

"Of coise." Spot said, smiling down at her.

Delia slid into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, Spot."

He hugged her back, his face buried in her hair.

"Na... tank _you_." Spot whispered to her, but she had already fallen to sleep in his arms.

**X**

**X**

**There you go, just a fluffy little chapter before I leave! And yes, I actually play the paino! If you want to hear the song, go to Youtube, type in ' dance theme and variation ', and click the second one down, by pianoman... had numbers at the end, but I can't remember them! That's not me playing the song, but that's what it sounds like. I actually play it a little bit slower then that! Anyway, this was for you guys and I'll have more for this and You'll Be the Death of Me, Spot Conlon when I get back! AND I shall have the character sheet with theme songs for Delia and Spot! See you my friends!**

**Xx. Hollis Darken// Lonely Conlon**


	9. Put On Hold, Authors Notes

**Put On Hold.**

I'm really sorry guys, that I havn't been adding chapters or anything… life's been really rough on me at the moment. My dads in the hospital, I feel like I'm dead, this is the first night I've slept at my own house in a few days… I just need breathing room and a long nap… I hope you guys understand, because I really want to finish this story, and I've never stopped thinking about it, but my family comes first and my dad just might die, so I need this break. If you have any objections to why I'm not paying attention to my story, please, PLEASE keep it to yourself. I'm ripping like a piece of paper and I just need you guys to understand and let me get these things thought out, ok? Thanks you guys, and I hope to put more soon.

Hollis Darken // Lonely Conlon


	10. Update, Authors Note

**Ok guys, well my dad's getting better, and should be home Monday, so I'll be on a lot more. I'll start on the next chapter of Spot Conlon, well, both of them, I'm sure, but I'm also planning on making a Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic soon, and it's sounding pretty good! **

**Anyways, I've put up my ****Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009? ****Characters and Theme Songs, so look for that~**

**Not only that, but I've also made my own Newsies Site! It's brand new, but I think it's already got three members; me, my friend and somebody I don't know! Anyway, the plot is that Pulitzer is trying to get rid of the Newsies by getting someone else to do their job. **

**Most spots' are open. You can make newsies, or a minion for Pulitzer. A lot of newsies are up for adoption, but don't forget to read the rules to know how many characters you can get. **

**Anyway, that's all my friends! Keep an eye out for my stories and new story! Hasta la vista, my friends.**

**~Hollis**

**P.S. The website URL won't work on , so put newsies x fate . proboard . com , only without any spaces! I'd like to see you join!**


	11. Better Off Without Me

**I know, it's been like a million years since I updated, but life has just been throwing hurtles at me, and I just keep tripping!!!**

**X**

**X**

**Spot Conlon 1882 to... 2009? Chapter Nine, Better Off Without Me**

**Spot's POV / Delia's POV  
**

**July 5th, 2009- Midnight / July 6th, 2009**

Spot had carried her back to bed that night, maybe bumping her head on the wall once in a while, but sleep didn't wash over him like he had hoped. He thought back to the 4th, watching as that fat pig put his arm around Delia's shoulders and pulled her closer. It killed him to see her with him. But... But she hadn't objected. She may have been a little surprised, but she hadn't objected, and knowing Delia, she wouldn't have just told him "no", but would have either slapped, punched, kicked or kicked in the groin if she hadn't been happy. Maybe.... backing off was best to do?

Spot carefully checked that Delia was still asleep before he sat up and reached over to her table. He grabbed her phone and opened it. He'd figured out what texting was from Ian, thank God, so he went to her inbox. There weren't any new messages, but there were a few between Delia and- shit -Jordan:

_Jordan: U want me 2 ask him and see if he'll ask u out??_

_Delia: Uhh, sure? I dunno._

_Jordan: U sure?_

_Delia: Fine, fine, go ahead._

Spot was ticked. Ok. He'd back off, and leave that fat-ass pig to Delia. She preferred him, didn't she? Forget about Spot, go after Cameron. Fat.... freaking.... Spot cussed at himself a few more times before he flopped down on the bed and plastered himself to the wall as far as he could get from Delia, but that didn't last long. Some how, Delia's hand found a way to his bare back, and the touch sent lightning through his skin. He whacked her hand away, but instantly regretted it as he heard Delia let out a little whimper in her sleep. He didn't comfort her, though. He was done.

* * *

Delia opened her tired eyes to see Spot pressed up against the wall, his back to her. That alone told Delia Spot wasn't alright. He was awake, though. She could here his breathing. It wasn't like he was breathing in a light, steady motion as if he was sleeping, but a deep, controlled breathing, that told her, yet again, Spot wasn't alright. Carefully she reached her hand, it looked dreadfully small for some reason, and touched Spot's bare shoulder. As if she had stung his, he flinched away from her, his hand appearing over his shoulder to slap her hand away. This sent Delia cringing back, her eyes widened in horror.

"Spot...?" She whispered, her voice quivering. Something was very wrong.

"Fuck off."

Delia's jaw dropped and she sat up so quickly, she hit her head on the metal bars above her.

"OW! What the hell is your problem!?" She practically screamed at him, jolting her brother awake above her.

Spot turned his head slowly, and what Delia saw made her gasp in shock; under his eyes were purple, as if he hadn't gotten a week of sleep. As if he had... cried? Impossible. His cold blue eyes glared up at Delia, hard as rock and cold as ice.

"I said, fuck. Off." He snarled before he turned his head to glare back at the wall.

Before Delia knew what was happening, Ian had jumped off the bed, pushed her aside and pulled Spot out of bed. Soon they were fist fighting, and all Delia did was sit there, her mouth hanging open and her hand on her forehead where she had hit her head on the bed.

Delia blinked, returning to reality, and stood up. Ian had just sent a punch to Spot's eye when Delia stepped between them.

"Enough, ok? Would you just-" But before Delia could finish, Spot's fist collided with her cheek.

Delia stumbled back slightly, her eyes widened in horror.

Spot had not intentionally hit her, and although his fist stung, he didn't apologize.

Delia's eyes hardened and she locked her reddening jaw. Her eyes stung with obvious confusion and hate, but she pushed passed Spot, her shoulder hitting his roughly as she stalked out of the room.

Ian glared at Spot before he too pushed passed Spot to follow his sister.

Spot ran his hand through his hair, feeling his knuckles bruising already. He knew he'd have a black eye where Ian had gotten him.

Spot just realized his mistake and mentally slapped himself; he just declared all out war on the people who had shown him kindness when he was dropped off in the wrong century.

Spot leaned over and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

"So, is there a reason why you told my sister to 'fuck off'?" A voice asked from the door.

Spot didn't take his face out of his hands, knowing it was Ian.

"She'd be bettah off witout me, awright? She can have Cameron. She want's him, aftah aw." Spot mumbled, taking his hands from his face and running them through his hair again. He turned his head to see Ian leaning against the door post, his arms crossed, but his eyes knowing.

"Want's Cameron? What make's you say that?"

"Look't her text messages...." Spot mumbled, looking down at the floor, her hands on the back of his neck. He looked down at his bare chest, remembering her touch. His chest yearned for her touch and it made his heart ache, but it wasn't love. It was... a needing.

"You're kidding me right?" Ian asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Wut?" Spot asked, looking back to him.

"I heard about what he did at the movie. She doesn't like him, believe me."

"Youse weren't there, Ian. She din't even stop 'im! She jus' sat dere, lettin' 'im put his hands aw ovah her!" Spot snarled, standing up and clenching his fists at his sides.

"Why Spot, I think you're jealous!" Ian chuckled, a funny smirk reaching his lips.

"Yoah avoidin' da question, because youse don't wanna tink about his hands all ovah her! It wuz..." Spot couldn't think of a word to describe how incredibly mad he was.

Ian opened his mouth to protest but closed it instead, shrugged and left the room.

* * *

The day passed unbelievably tense and silent. Delia only glared at Spot with hate boiling in her eyes and blood while Spot was trying to decide whether to be mad or upset that she was mad at him.

Night had now fallen and Spot stood in the bathroom, his hands clutching at the white sink. He was shirtless and stood with his shoulders hunched over the sink as water dripped from his face and back into the sink. Only moments ago he had been sitting in the living room, watching the TV with Ian when a ripped pain seared across his chest. He had got off, mumbling through his teeth to Ian that he was going to the bathroom, and once out of Ian's sight, raced into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, locking it carefully. He had started to sweat a hard cold sweat, so he had started the water, placing his cupped hands under the cool water and splashing it across his face. Yet another flash of pain seared his chest and his grabbed at the bottom of his shirt, ripping it off. What he found on his chest made him grip at the sink, in the way he stood now. His chest had what looked to be a knife mark that was healing. But the thing that scared him the most was that it hadn't been there the days before. And a few centimeters away from that one was a circle that looked as it was healing as well. Spot neither could remember getting the bruise or it being there before today.

With his hand shaking, Spot grabbed a towel and whipped his dripping face off, letting out a sharp breath and slipping his shirt back over his head. He opened the door and walked towards Delia's and Ian's room. The creamy colored door was closed, and he could just barely hear Delia's whispering to herself... how odd.

Spot brought his knuckles to the door and knocked lightly.

"Dilya? May I come in?" He asked softly.

"Leave me alone!" Came Delia's chocked words.

Spot, being Spot, didn't listen and pushed open the door, walking into the room. Her voice had not sounded normal; it was chocked; forced.

Delia was pushed into the corner of her bed, sitting on her feet. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her open phone lay in front of her on the sheets.

Her eyes were blood shot, and her cheeks were wet and puffy. She'd been crying.

"Dilya..?" Spot asked, her brow knitted in confusion.

Delia closed her eyes, shaking her head and pointing to the phone in front of her with her index finger.

Spot walked carefully over to her, sat on the bed and grabbed her phone, looking through her messages. He saw some texts' from Cameron and opened them, reading over them quickly. There were some pretty harsh things he had said to her, about her being so stupid for liking him, and thinking they would ever be together. Altogether, it was way too harsh for such a young girl.

"Dilya... I-" He started, but was quickly cut off.

"You're sorry right? You thought I liked him so you 'backed off', right? Well look what you did now, you ass! You just got it ruined." Delia spat the last words, ripping her phone from his hands, grabbing a pillow and afghan, and leaving the room.

Spot sat there.

He sat there all night, long after Ian had climbed into bed and turned off the light.

To put it simply, and into modern words...:

He. Was. Screwed

* * *

**Now, you have to understand, if Spot hadn't been so upset about "backing off", I would have a lovey dovey story, and the end wouldn't be as dramatic! I hope you enjoyed this!! I certainly did! Reviews mean you're nice!**

**Forever for my Newsies Family, My Love!!**

**~Scree  
**


	12. The Silence

**Hey, hey, my fellow Newsie lovers!! I know, I've been really slow on all this jazz, but what with the dreaded school and all that stuff... Anyway... my story's drawing to an end!! Only few Chapter left!! Let me see... The 7th, now?? That would mean... Tuesday... Oh dang, I was going pretty quickly. I think I might make this chapter short... After this one, which is just going through Tuesday and Wednesday, boringly, and then Thurday, Spot's view, and my Delia's view... That should be pretty good! Then Friday... Friday again... Spot chapter... OK!! That makes six more chapters?? Roughly... Anyway, enjoy!!  
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**Spot Conlon 1882 to... 2009? Chapter Ten, The Silence  
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**July 7th, 2009**

Tuesday and Wednesday was very uncomfortable between Spot, Ian and Delia. Delia remained silent and cold, her eyes blood shot and her face a mask of hatred. Ian... well, Ian couldn't help be be the ass he was and give Spot the "I told you so look" when ever he got the chance. Strangely enough, he wasn't mad at Sopt for breaking his sisters heart. What was his problem, anyway?? This always left Spot baffled. Did Ian know something Spot and Delia didn't know??

Spot on the other had wouldn't speak. At all. If he tried, a little groan escaped his throat before he closed his mouth and just gave whoever he was talking to a blank stare, trying to tell them whatever they wanted through his silver blue eyes. Ian had suggested he used a pencil and pad of paper, but Spot wasn't literate. 1899, remember?

Tuesday was different. Spot, Ian and Delia had to go with Mrs. Teichman to her work, Delia having Spanish Lessons after all (As if she had even tried studying the cursed language!).

Mrs. Teichman worked with a printing press, and she had a room to herself with three different computer, each computer having two monitors. She allowed Ian and Spot to go on the computer for awhile if they promised to help around for an hour or so.

Ian had shown Spot how to use a computer and showed him a around a few of his and Delia's favorite websites: Blue and Leaf, a _Warrior Cat_ site, Forbidden Desire, a _Lion King_ website, Myspace, a place they could go to keep in touch with their friends, Fanfiction, a place they could write some stories for their favorite movies, books, ect, and other various websites.

Delia had sat in the corner the entire time, reading _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, leaving the boys to tinker around on the computer.

Around one they left for Delia's Spanish Class. They arrived at her teachers house, Delia disappearing into the kitchen to work with a tall, ran curly haired woman she called 'Teacher Kathy', leaving Spot, Ian and Mrs. Teichman in the living room with Teacher Kathy's 8 year old daughter, Elaina, who was watching _The Brady Bunch_. Very old fashioned family.

Her session lasted only half an hour, and Delia left the kitchen with the same expression she came with; blank.

Tuesday passed, as did that night, and Wednesday was just as dead. They watched TV, Delia was on the phone with Danielle for about half the day, Ian left to hang out with a few of his friends, leaving Spot to worry about being murdered by Delia without any witnesses.

"I'm not going to be here tomorrow." Delia's monotone voice mumbled from behind Spot. Spot's blank face turned to the doorway of the living room, dressed in sweats. Outside it was 98 degrees outside, and inside was only a few degrees below, even with every fan in the house whirling away. Did she have a fever?? Was she getting herself sick??

"Why?" Spot asked, just as monotone as Delia.

"I'm going on a beach trip with Danielle and my Youth Group. And then Friday there's a masquerade..." Delia mumbled, walking into the living room and flopping down onto the love seat across from Spot.

"Oh... A ball? Wut's dat?" Spot asked carefully. He'd heard about all the riches going to "balls" or "masquerades", but him being the poor street rat he was, never got an explanation.

"Just a dance. You dress up and wear masks and dance with whoever you find, but you don't find out who they are until the end of the dance." Delia explained her eyes remaining on the green carpet.

"Oh? Wut dus dis have ta do wit me?" Spot asked curiously.

"Ian won't take Danielle and I, and it's in walking distance, and mom won't let us go by ourselves. Bad town ya know?" Delia mumbled, taking her eyes to his.

"Yeah, I do knows..." Spot mumbled, looking her carefully in the eye, "But how does dat woik foah us? I mean if we walk dere, den I know what you looks like."

"We change there." Delia said, "Will you take us? You don't have to stay, I mean..."

"Na, dat'll be interestin'. If I'm goin' ta be livin' in dis century, I might as well try out sum tings..." Spot sighed, his heart aching for Brooklyn.

"Oh... thanks Spot.." Delia said, a flash of a smile on her face before she disappeared out the door.

Spot watched her go. Was this his... Oh what was the word? Forgiveness? Something along the lines of that... Dancing with some girls? Sure, that'd get him back into the spirit. After all, he hadn't had a one night stand in... well... it seemed like forever. Could there possibly be girls like the girls in New York here in Fresno? He hoped there was. A one night stand could get his mind off that thing.

Another idea popped into his head. This one didn't involve girls, though. He was going to go give that Cameron ass a piece of his mind. Jordan too, if he could find him. That's what he'd do while Delia was away. Hopefully she wouldn't hate him too much.

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**Short Chapter indeed, my friends! Just to get some things clear, ya know?? Anyway... yeah, I did go to the beach and I want to put some of that in there. Believe, it SHAN'T be dull!!! Reviews make you go to heaven! No... how could I stoop so low? Don't Review and you go to Hell! GAH!!! Sorry, I'll shut up ._. Review and I'll give you a big internet tackle/hug, mkay??**

**Loves you all!!**

**~Scree  
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	13. Delia's Trip to the Sea

**Huh. I've been writing in 3rd person for the whole story, and I've gotten hooked on 1st person now. **

**Don't worry, I won't change on you, but if I slip up, I so sowwy! **

**By the way, read my other stories! Newsies Again (Another time travel fic), Three Days Grace (Spot's life story), AND, I'm going to be re-writing the first few chapters of You'll Be the Death of Me, Spot Conlon and I'm gonna make it lots better! **

**On to the chapter.  
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**Spot Conlon 1882 to... 2009? Chapter Eleven, Delia's Trip to the Sea  
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**Delia's POV (Can't really be a point of view if it's 3rd person, can it??...Whatever)**

**July 9th, 2009**

Delia's day started bright an early at 6 AM. She was pretty surprised to see Spot up before her. Over the passed few days, his skin had become paler and paler, his bright electric stormy blue eyes had lost its light and he didn't seem like the old Spot. And Delia missed this. _"Maybe I've been too hard on him?"_ She thought to herself, glancing at him on the bottom bed while getting a few things out of the closet. He was looking back at her. Delia couldn't keep her eyes on his poor skin and eyes and she looked back to her things. Ian, despite his love for sleep, was getting up. He had also been invited to go to the beach, but had denied for whatever reason. Ian jumped off the top bed agilely and nodded to Spot and Delia before he left them room. Once he was down the hall a good ways, Delia tossed the belongings in her hands to the floor and turned, her mouth opening.

Spot had stood up off the bed, his mouth open as well. Both teens snapped their mouths and gave each other grim smiles.

"You go first..." Delia sighed, walking over to the bed and flopping down besides Spot as he sat down.

"Naw, ladies foist..." Spot said, looking down at the carpeted floor.

Delia took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"Spot... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that-"

But Delia was cut off when Spot covered her mouth with his hand.

"Don't say dat. I was doin' everyting wrong, 'nd-"

But Delia cut him off, placing her hand over his. She would have told him to stop, but Spot still had his hand over her mouth, so instead she shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Delia wasn't an emotional person, but sometimes everything just went wrong and she didn't know how to handle it.

Spot removed his hand from her mouth and took hers from his.

"I don't know Spot. You're just so... You're such..." She barely knew what she was blubbering.

"Such an ass, ya mean?" Spot said, a little smirk pulling at his lips. A real smirk that Delia hadn't seen in days. She could smile if she wasn't crying.

She shook her head quickly.

"No..." She coughed, whipping the cheeks, "Stupid tears..."

Spot smiled, whipping a couple off her neck, sending shivers down her back.

"I just don't know Spot. At one time we're friends, and then the next we're biting at each other." Delia huffed her river blue eyes staring at the wall opposite of her, "We're frienimies..."

Spot let out a chuckled.

"I know whats youse mean..." He sighed, running a hand through his brownish blond hair just falling back into his face.

"Delia! Have you gotten your things together?! We've got to go!" Mrs. Teichman called from somewhere in the house.

Delia took in a deep breath.

"Yeah mom, one second." She called back, standing up in motion with Spot.

The both of them looked at each other for a few seconds before Spot pulled Delia towards him hesitantly, holding her tight hug, his face buried in her hair.

"Have fun, kay? Don't worry 'bout me or nuttin'. I'se'll take care of it." He whispered so softly, she had to listen very carefully.

Delia put her arms around his neck, hugging him back. For some reason, she felt the end hurrying towards her. Like he wasn't going to be around for long.

Spot felt it to and could barely let go.

They nodded to each other and Delia grabbed her things, giving Spot one last long look in the eyes before she left the room.

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About an hour later, Delia, along with Danielle and their friend Jenny, were on the charter bus, taking a group of about 30 or so 7th and 8th graders to the beach along California's coast. Delia stared out along the farm land as they entered the mountains, leaving the valley in which they lived. But she should have fun, not just stare out the window...

Delia turned her head towards Danielle and Jenny, who were across the bus, sitting together. Danielle was already looking back.

"So, how's Mr. Pain in the A-" She stopped. Church trip. "-...Butt?" She corrected herself.

Delia sighed and shrugged. "Same as always I suppose..." She muttered.

Danielle, practically bored by Delia's answer, turned back to Jenny and started into a deep conversation, leaving Delia to her thoughts.

About two hours later, the group pulled up to their first destination: A cove.

The cove was rounded and pebbly, the sky filled with gray clouds, the cold wind sweeping over the sea pants the lined the cliffs down to the cove.

Delia stepped off the bus and took in a deep breath, taking in the salty air. She always loved the smell of salt water.

They hiked down to the bottom of the cliffs and they all spread out, climbing and searching for the wonders of the ocean.

Since Danielle disliked climbing the rocks, and Jenny decided to stay with her, Delia went off on her own to climb across the carved stone that she loved.

On reaching the rocks, being the only one there, she was the first to see the poor creature.

A dead sea lion lay there, along a few yards from the water. His head was still there, as well as his flippers and back legs and tail, but it's ribs were visible, as long as most of its innards.

Delia truly loved such a creature, even in death.

That was when that stupid little 7th grade boy ran up.

"Hey look guys! A dead seal!" He screamed back to his friends who were only a little bit away.

All five of the boys ran over with sticks and rocks, prodding the poor creature and placing rocks on its' head.

Delia stumbled a few feet away and collapsed onto the rock, shaking with fury. Did the human race have no compassion?! Even if the poor thing was dead, you shouldn't do that! Leave its' carcass to rot peacefully.

Finally once the boys had grown bored with the dead seal and moved on to mess with the other creatures of the sea, leaving Delia to look at the poor seal.

They had moved its' head around a little with the sticks they had and put a few rocks on its' head.

Delia pursed her lips in a deadly way and stumbled over to the poor creature. It did not stink and a few insects buzzed around it, but Delia thought it was beautiful. She remembered seeing the seals around the Monteray Aquarium and wished that this one was still in tact and swimming.

Without fear, Delia reached over to the seal, taking the stupid stones off its' head, careful not to touch it. Not that it was gross or disgusting, but there wasn't clean water and soap anywhere, and she'd be sure to touch her face that day, and didn't want to get sick.

She whispered a little thing about not having anyone disturb him again and left to climb the rocks.

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After about an hour or two of exploring the cove, everyone piled back into the bus and headed off to lunch at Taco Bells. After that, the bus took them to a real beach: hot yellow sand, murky, salty water, people, food... Boogie boarding all day in Danielle's opinion.

The warmth made Delia feel safe again. Even the hot sand that burned under her feet as they marched closer to the water to set up a few tents with food.

Pulling off her sweatshirt, revealing a blue tank top over a bikini top and black soccer shorts, Delia put her things together and put a good layer of sunscreen on.

Everyone took off doing different things. Some people played volley ball, others foot ball, while the brave ones went out to the cold water to see who could get their head under first.

Danielle, with the help of Brent, one of the Youth leaders, went to get a boogie board, leaving Delia by herself.

Laying out her blanket near the food, half way under the shade, she sat down, letting out a sigh.

Once of twice that day she went down into the water and wadded around, but that was about it.

What had Spot told her to do? Have fun? Yeah, right.

Now she lay sleeping in the sun, on her stomach to the ground. Danielle had dragged her out into the water and gave her the board, forcing her to board back. Sure, Delia had done it billions of times and knew exactly what to do and what not to do, but today she just couldn't get it right.

Her first time that day was her last.

Forgetting to pull up on the board as the wave came, the nose of the board went straight down, the back of it getting her right in the gut. Almost puking her guts out, she staggered back to the tent and decided to nap.

"Delia! Wake up!! Guess what happened!?" Someone screamed near by.

Half in and out of sleep, Delia squinted in the sun, looking up to see a dripping wet Danielle.

"What?" She mumbled.

"There was a seal and it swam right by this guy and he just started _screaming_!! He sounded like a girl!" She laughed, showing her funny little teeth.

Delia half smiled.

"And I missed that? Crap..." Truly, she was happy. Remembering that dead seal...

Soon enough it was time to go, and back onto the road they went, the sun falling steadily.

About half way back to Fresno, they stopped at an In-N-Out for dinner. Most of them ate half heartedly, all burned and tired from a day of play.

Back onto the road, Delia found a pounding head ache welcoming her. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Impossible.

A few 7th grade girls in front of them, who were _**right next to each other**_were practically screaming at each other.

This was going to be a long hour and a half ride home.

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**Chapter up! Like it? Some of this happened, yes, like the beach, dead seal (Which I named Freddy, but the mood didn't call for me to put that in it), the screaming girls... Lots.**

**I LOVE my reviewers!! So much, you'll never know. How many chapters did I say were left last time? Well, I might be changing it!!**

**Only THREE chapters left. **

**12. Spot's Day when Delia's at the Beach**

**13. The Masquerade **

**14. ~Surprise~**

**I just hope you guys don't guess what's happening! I want it to be a surprise!!**

**Oh, and by the way, my best friend, xXEmiShaeXx, is writing a few Newsies stories. One of these, called Falling in Mush, is a continual to this story!! I URGE you to ALL read it!**

**It's AMAZINGLY good, and even ties in with You'll Be the Death Of Me, Spot Conlon. **

**FYI, I plan on fixing YBTDOM, SC, when I finish this one up, which won't be very long at all!**

**Cookies for all!!**

**~Scree  
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	14. VERY IMPORTANT

**Hey guys, this is your good friend, XScree-ScreeX, and I just wanted to say that I am going to start to rewrite Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009? I'm probably going to rename it, it's going to change to first person, switching between Spot and Delia.**

**I'm sorry to all my reviewers who just want to see the end, but DON'T WORRY. Every chapter I get up with be 10X better!!!**

**Much love from your totally awesome Scree-person!!**

**~Scree**

**By the way, I'm starting right away, so check often. I'm going to leave all the chapters up, fixing them one by one, so just keep checking, kay?? Once in a while, anyway.  
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